


In Love and Undeath

by Maryassassina



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: F/M, World of Warcraft: Battle for Azeroth, not necessarily Lore- compatible at all times but I'm trying my best
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2020-01-15 02:12:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 35,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18489166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maryassassina/pseuds/Maryassassina
Summary: Being a Horde champion in the Battle for Azeroth is a tough job. Especially when your boss is a certain undead Ranger Lord. And even more so, when you have feelings for him you definitely shouldn't have... Nathanos Blightcaller/OFC





	1. Welcome to the Jungle

When her boat reached the port of the great city of Dazar'alor, Ylena Autumnfeather chose not to report straight away but instead take the liberty of a quick wash before.

A silly demonstration of vanity, certainly, but cleanliness was in her blood and she wanted to be damned if she faced her commander without having at least washed the worst filth off her hands and face.

Not that Nathanos Marris would probably so much as bat an eyelid if she appeared before him in her sexiest dress and wrapped up in a cloud of sweet perfume. The former Ranger Lord- trained by no other than Sylvanas Windrunner herself and besides, the only human who ever had the honour to claim this title - was most likely beyond such superficialities now.

He was no longer human either, and had not been for a long time.

When the Lich King had unleashed the scourge on Azeroth, he too had been killed and transformed into one of his mindless minions.

After the Alliance commanders in Stormwind got wind of their former hero's fate, they sent many a troop of soldiers to hunt him down, but none of them succeeded or even returned alive.

It was the Dark Lady who found him at last, vegetating in his old family home in Lordearon among his beloved mastiffs now turned plaguehounds.

Her former protegé was reduced to a pitiful sight, a decaying slave who fed on the corpses of his own making.

She had freed him from the Lichking's grip and given him a new home in Undercity, where he had then long served her as trainer for future Forsaken hunters.

But then, first with the third assault of the Burning Legion, and now with an anew bitter conflict between Horde and Alliance in full swing, Sylvanas had remembered his abilities and entrusted him with greater tasks.

He was her second in command now, responsible for the execution of her plans and it said that he was as loyal to her in undeath as he had been in life.

 

No, if Nathanos Blightcaller - as his new melodious surname now was- still held any feelings for another person in his no longer beating heart that weren't rage and the desire for vengeance, it was for the Banshee Queen.

Rumour had it, that they had been lovers back in Quel'Dalas, and still were.

And perhaps that was why, when the Dark Lady had asked the valkyr to give him a new body that was stronger than ever before, she had also insisted his face should resemble his old one, one that was more- appealing- to common taste. (That was, if one wanted to call deathly pale skin and burning red eyes appealing. Even the powers of the mighty valkyrs weren't unlimited.)

 

Countless jokes circulated around the Forsaken and their looks-but one was well advised to tell them in a whisper now that their leader was also the Horde's warchief, and one thing was certain, Sylvanas had provided her tormented people with a new, defiant pride.

It had been Voljin himself who had whispered her name with his last breath when he had fallen at the Broken Shore.

His will had been done, but there were many who had not been happy with his decision then- among them Ylena's own regent Lor'themar Theron- and were it now even less after she had dragged the Horde into another bloody war.

Nathanos had stood by her side when the great world tree Teldrassil burned, and also when she had stopped the Alliance's advance towards Undercity with the blightbombs that killed many of her own people as well.

They say, he had hesitated to execute her commands both times, but he had still done it in the end, and now Darnassus lay in smoldering ruins and the former home of the Forsaken was a poisoned wasteland-

 

Ylena shook her head in order to rid herself from such disturbing thoughts that seemed to capture her mind whenever it wasn't focused on a current mission- which wasn't often.The situation was precarious and her commander was definitely the demanding sort. And it wasn't her place to speculate about the right or wrong of her superiors' deeds.

 

 

It took a while until she found a well with halfway clean water, but what else could be expected in a city whose inhabitants did not care much for baths.

The capital of the Zandalari empire was impressing, to be sure, but it was also ancient and smelled of rot beneath all the pomp and splendour, just like its royalty.

Dazar'alor was huge and chaotic- even after four weeks in this place Ylena still lost her way from time to time, and that could prove quite dangerous. The outskirts of the city were teeming with vermin of all sorts, and King Rastakhan even allowed the Amani clan to control a whole area-

 _Savages_ , thought Ylena with a disgusted shudder. Like all Sin'dorei, she had little love for the members of the "old" Horde - Trolls, Tauren and Orcs- an aversion that was heartily reciprocated.

Granted, since the Shal'dorei had joined the Horde, the Blood Elves were no longer considered the most pompous race in it. ( Not that the Nightborne had much reason to be so stuck up, if one asked her. After all, they had bowed to demons not too long ago. )

But even when arrogance was certainly a distinguishing trait of both their people, Ylena came from a too humble background to be able to afford much of it.

Her parents were simple hunters like her, not only forced to provide for themselves but also the "higher" folk in Silvermoon, all those haughty mages and scholars in their fine robes, whose soft white hands never had to wield anything heavier than a quill.

Her own hands, as Ylena noticed with a hint of regret as she carefully cleaned them, were full of callouses and not even white when she had washed the dirt off it. She had spent too many years outside in the open to maintain a pallor that would be considered noble, and held a bow at an age when city children still clutched to their plush toys.

And although slender as all her race, years of training had made her body rather muscular than delicate. She kept her hair cut at shoulder-length, which was definitely more practical in the field than one of those fashionable updos, and it wasn't light-blonde either but dark red- an advantage when you had to wipe it off your face in the heat of the moment, and with bloodied fingers.

So Ylena might not be the role model of a Blood Elf lady in many ways, but she had still managed to emerge from her common origin with hard training, persistence and a healthy amount of ambition.

She had made a name for herself as a skilled and ruthless huntress-and it wasn't as if she would have had much of a choice. To live close enough to the Ghostlands with permanent ambushes by servants of the Scourge and- well- _Amani trolls_ required that one knew how to defend themselves. 

But then the Horde's warchief, in search of new allies, had seen her potential and hired her for a secret mission- the rescue of a certain Zandalari princess and an old prophet from Stormwind's dungeons.

 

Only that Princess Talanji had refused to pledge allegiance to the Dark Lady before the Horde had not proven their worth as an ally by helping her father to deal with riots in his own kingdom.

And that was why they were here now, in this large, derelict troll city amidst a wild jungle, with all its decaying pomp, strange cults, unpleasant smells and way too lurid colours.

And so was the Alliance; Jaina Proudmoore's fleet lay in wait at the bay on the other side of the ocean, and the number of her troops grew steadily.

And so every new day brought another dangerous special mission for the Horde's warchief's new champion.

 

 

Ylena splashed some more water into her face, then she filled a bucket for her companion as well and watched as Brighteye drank greedily.

The red female lynx was a descendant of the very first pet she had tamed herself and she could not wish for a better and more loyal companion.

Being a hunter meant you never had to go to battle alone, but also that you were always responsible for someone else's life.

Ylena did not take this responsibilty lightly- it was a lengthy and challenging process to train a beast to be the perfect fighting companion- and she was proud of having lost only three so far, and two of them had died of old age. ( Plus, the lynx's fur matched her hair colour quite nicely. Ylena was still a Blood Elf, and thus not entirely free of vanity.)

"Come," she said and petted her companion behind her pointy ears. "Better not keep him waiting."

 

 

The "Banshee's Wail" was Sylvana's flagship and currently served as her center of command as well.

The Dark Lady herself resided in the royal quarters when she wasn't in Ogrimmar. She was busy with her own affairs most of the time and seldom aboard in person- or at least, as much as Ylena could tell- whereas her second in command hardly ever left the ship at all.

Nathanos Blightcaller claimed the Zandalari didn't like him much, and that was probably true, although perhaps due to the fact that he refused to "mingle with the crowd" ( except for official performances when he had to )and instead preferred the isolation of his ship's cabin.

Ylena had never met him in any of the taverns where she usually spent her nights ( Trolls may understand nothing about culture and bodily hygiene but their drinks were not to be scoffed at, let alone their weed ) but she had often fantazised about exactly that to happen.

She and him alone in a dark corner of a bar, after a few mojo cocktails, exchanging memories of the fallen kingdom of Quel'Dalas- not that she would have much to contribute to the topic.

She was too young to"remember the sunwell" as the traditional farewell of the Sin'dorei went, at least before its destruction, and too unimportant to have been allowed to visit it since it had been restored.

But surely she remembered ( and missed ) the smooth hills and beautiful forests of her homeland, the soft pastel colours of its leaves and flowers, the elegant, luminiscent towers of its buildings-

 _Stop it_! she reprimanded herself inwardly. There she was again, dwelling in daydreams when her mind should be focused on the task at hand.

Perhaps she was only tired. Perhaps she should retreat to her small room at the Watertusk Inn after providing her report instead of drinking away another night...

 

 

Her commander awaited her aboard his ship.

Ylena was always nervous when she had to report to him. There was no reason for that; her missions hardly ever failed, but she couldn't help it, something about the man gave her goosebumps and it wasn't just out of fear, which would at least be understandable.

Not for the first time she wondered helplessly where that morbid- and doubtlessly fatal- fascination came from.

For even if he had not been dead, Nathanos was certainly no handsome man to Sin'dorei taste.

He was of medium height and sturdily built as humans were- his plain, dark leather garb did little to hide his broad chest and strong, muscular arms and legs- and he shared the deplorable tendency of his people for facial hair, his beard was as deep black as his bushy brows and shoulder-length hair.

She knew his face had been restored, but he had not been a young man any more when he died and it showed in the lines on his forehead and crow's feet around his eyes ( and it weren't laughter lines- he hardly ever smiled. )

As a member of a long living race, blessed with the looks of eternal youth, Ylena should find visible traits of age repulsive, but on him for some reason, she did not. And neither did she feel repelled by his red-hot eyes or his skin that was as pale as a corpse's- which he technically was.

 

As always, Nathanos didn't bother with greetings but merely waited for her to speak. If he was angry about the delay, he did not let it show; his expression was as unmoved and unreadable as ever.

He listened to her report of another successfully accomplished mission ( sneaked into an enemy base, killed a dozen Alliance soldiers, placed a few bombs, plundered supplies) and when she had finished, he gave a short approving nod.

"Well done," he said. "The Dark Lady chose her champion well. She will be pleased to hear about your success."

It was hardly more than an empty phrase- he had said the exact same on other occasions before- but Ylena still revelled in the rare praise like in warm sunlight.

She was being foolish and she knew it. There were no indications that he cared for her as a person, she was a useful tool- _one of many_ \- and her successes were successes for the cause, nothing more.

Besides, his dark voice always had that particular- slightly sarcastic- undertone that seemed to reverse his every word. ( quite similar to the Dark Lady's "For the horde". ) As if all this was really a big joke for them.

Perhaps it was.

And perhaps it was only her weariness that made her throw all caution to the wind and decide to enquire.

"And you?" she asked quickly, when she saw he was about to turn his back on her, meaning she was dismissed. "What about you? Are _you_ pleased with me, too?"

 

For the first time during their meeting, something akin to an emotion flickered across Nathanos' pale features. If Ylena were to guess, it was most likely confusion.

"What difference does it make?" he asked in a flat voice. "We both serve _her_."

"Indeed we do." Ylena hastened to agree. She watched his face intently, trying hard to figure out what he might think about her approach. Had she gone too far already? Could she dare to go even further?

She swallowed. "But it does make a difference." she whispered. "It does for me."

Her commander furrowed his dark brows. " Why?" Now he _did_ sound confused.

"Why because-" Ylena paused and swallowed anew. The truth was that she would love to know that herself, but that was hardly an appropriate anwer.

"You are my employer." she said at last and lifted her hands. "And you- you are a _legend_."

"I know, I still have a lot to learn," she added quickly. "And I-I would be more than honoured if you considered me worthy of your training."

 

His frown deepened and Ylena dropped her gaze in order to escape the piercing gaze of his smoldering eyes.

For a long while there came no answer and she dared not look up, afraid to find the rejection on his face she expected, or even worse, mockery.

At last, the former Farstrider exhaled audibly. ( A mere reflex as she assumed, Undead didn't have to breathe. )

"Your skills are- satisfactory." he said coolly. "I would not have accepted your service were it otherwise. And it cannot have escaped you that my days as a hunter trainer are over. More important matters require my attention now."

"Of course." Ylena felt her cheeks grow hot and cursed herself inwardly. _What a fool she was_! Of course he wouldn't like to be reminded of his days in Undercity, of what he must consider had been "dirty work".

"Forgive me." she whispered.

Suddenly, and to her utter astonishment, she felt his hand on her skin as he gently lifted her chin up to him. His touch was as cool as expected, but the shiver it sent all the way through her body had nothing to do with cold.

"Rest now." he said in a surprisingly soft voice. "You look tired. There is still much to do and I need you fit to perform at your best."

 

Knowing she was dismissed for good, Ylena nodded and turned to leave the ship on wobbly legs.

She picked up her pet at the pier, where a local fisherman was feeding it from his daily catch ( all Trolls seemed to be animal lovers and the Zandalari were no exception ) and made her way to the inn, where she bought a cold snack and a jug of wine to accompany her to her room.

She picked at her food for a while, found it less tasty with every bite and at last pushed it aside in favour of the wine.

She emptied the whole jug, before she sprawled out on her bed without even bothering to take her clothes off.

The ordered rest, however, would not come for a long time.


	2. Other Peoples, Other Customs

"By the light, is it ever going to cool in this blasted swamp?" Quinni moaned. "Must be near midnight but the air's still hot as a dragon's breath."

She produced a laced handkerchief from the pocket of her splendid, floor-length silken robe and dabbed her face, careful not to smudge her exquisite make up. The pretty blonde was at her third Tiki Tumbler and her voice had begun to slur a little, her appearance however, was flawless as ever- or at least, so much as the climate allowed.

Ylena, who wore a simple linen shirt and breeches, finished her own drink and merely shrugged. She had been forced to listen to the fellow Sindo'rei's whining about the weather since the day they set foot on Zandalar's shore- and would likely continue to do so until the day of their departure.

In private, she thought her friend had little reason to complain. The enchantment trainer spent all day in the _Hall of Glimmers_ where it was always dark and cool, her job was well paid and she didn't even have to dirty her perfectly manicured hands for it.

"And why do we always end up here in this hole of a place, I wonder," Quinni went on, not even bothering to lower her voice. "All harbour inns are dirty and reek of fish. Not to speak of their customers- the Zocalo has the much more- _sophisticated_ \- places for all I know, and after all, it's where you live."

"And that, my friend," Ylena replied and waved at the barkeeper to refill their glasses," is _precisely_ the reason why we don't go there. Never party at home. Good old drinking rule. Spares you a lot of trouble- like getting your belongings back in case of a house ban."

"Nonsense!" the blonde snorted. She rested her chin on her hands and threw her friend a knowing look of her green cat eyes. "We both know the real reason, don't we?" she teased. "You're still hoping _he_ will show up here one day. But he hasn't yet, has he? And he won't. And what for any way? To scare the small ones?"

Ylena scowled, but she couldn't deny that her friend had a point.

The _Spirits Be With You,_ her favourite bar, was located right next to the city's orphanage- which was indeed more than a little questionable, especially since the innkeeper sometimes "borrowed" some of the little ones to help out in his establishment.

But that was hardly her concern. When in Zandalar-

And yes, it was _coincidentally_ true that the inn was closest to the port where the _Banshee's Wail_ lay at anchor, but the smell wasn't half as bad as the fellow blood elf claimed. In the late evening hours, when the oppressive heat of the day had eased somewhat, the salty breeze from the ocean was refreshing and blended quite pleasantly with the scent of exotic spices from the Grand Bazaar and the flowers of the bordering jungle.

"Well, _I_ for my part wouldn't want to see my boss after work," the petite entchantment trainer went on, clearly enjoying to get on Ylena's nerves more with every drink. "And he isn't even half as humourless and scary as yours."

"Nathanos isn't humourless." Ylena objected in the instinctive urge to defend her commander. ( That he was scary could not be denied. )

 

In truth, Nathanos Blightcaller was even particularly creative when it came to derisive remarks- and at her expense more often than not.

The Dark Ranger had not mentioned her inappropriate behaviour again during the last week, but she couldn't escape the feeling that he was still angry with her. Was it only her imagination or did his obligatory _Try not to get yourself killed_ before a mission sound more sarcastic every time?

And his praise for her successes was often accompanied by petty criticism now, like _You could have been faster_ or even _You could have left a less anemic bloodtrail in your wake_.

Perhaps it was only his stress and tension talking- they knew the Alliance prepared their fleet for an attack, but they didn't know when it would happen- or _where._

It was clear that Nathanos expected her and her fellow campaigners to find out about it, but such was hardly the kind of thing the Alliance would put up on the bulletin board, and so far none of their captives had been able to tell them anything useful.

Ylena was neither a clairvoyant nor could she just sneak into the heavily guarded Proudmoore Keep to eavesdrop on conversations, in hopes of getting that specific information.

For all their undeniable flaws, the Alliance wasn't completely stupid and Nathanos should know best; it had been his tactical genius that had ensured many of their victories throughout a decade of conflict.

And while the boy king might be a little impulsive and naive due to his young age, the same could definitely not be said of Jaina Proudmoore, who was a serious and dangerous opponent- good thing she had to deal with some problems of her own in her old home-

 

"Why, _some_ people like to get bullied," her friend shrugged, as if she'd been reading her thoughts. "But I wouldn't have thought you were _that_ sort of person. And he isn't even hot, if you get my meaning. Quite the contrary, I'd say."

She giggled at her own joke until a fit of hiccups interrupted her. Not too gently, Ylena patted her on the back until it stopped.

"Are you done?" she enquired through clenched teeth. But nothing-except maybe for a well-aimed arrow between the eyes- could cut Quinni off once she was in a talkative mood, and it would be a pity to lose an otherwise fun drinking companion and the person that came closest to a friend Ylena had in this strange land.

"The Valkyr did a good job, I'll admit that," Quinni gave when she was again able to speak. "But at what cost? Think about it. Sylvanas wouldn't have done this for anyone. And it was hardly out of kindness of her heart. It runs in the family, doesn't it? The Windrunner sisters have always had a taste for human flesh-"

"Could you please stop?" Ylena hissed and glared at her friend from over her glass. Not for the first time, she regretted ever having told her about her fatal attraction for her boss. She knew all those things, of course. It didn't change how she felt.

"I'm just saying this for you own good, you know that, right?" Quinni raised her lily-white hands. "About time you stop pining for Mister Spooky and get yourself a _real man_. This city may be a big cesspit, but there's a lot of lonely hearts out there- and the locals aren't half as bad either."

She leaned forward and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know Paikee, the Captain of the guards who patrols the Terrace of Crafters, don't you? Well, I swear I had no idea what he meant when he asked me the other night if I would fancy a ride on his direhorn -"

Ylena's eyes grew wide. "You didn't!"

"Oh yes I did," her friend replied with a smug smile. "Couldn't walk for hours afterwards."

"You're disgusting!"

Quinni rolled her eyes. "Says the toad to the murloc. At least he is _alive_." She grinned. "Very much so, actually. I could introduce you if you want."

"Thanks, but I think I'll pass."

"Your loss." Quinni shrugged her slender shoulders. "Oh look! These little turtles are _so_ cute!"

She clapped her hands in excitement when a party of Tortollans walked by the inn. The leader of the group met the emotional outbreak of the clearly drunk blood elf at his sight with a brief, blank stare from his reptile eyes before dignifiedly looking away again.

 

"And speaking of cute-" the blonde cocked her head at a group of Nightborne warriors who sat at a table near the bar. "You may or may not have noticed it, but these fine specimens over there have been looking at us for quite a while now." She winked. "Perhaps we won't have to pay for our drinks tonight, what do you think? Wouldn't be the worst idea considering your meager income."

Ylena sighed. It was true, the Horde was short of gold lately since most of it went into the preparations for war, and she and the other champions fought mainly for honour and glory.

Her wage barely covered for board and lodging and what little was left she sent home to the Eversong Woods every week. But then, there wasn't much sense in putting something away when your job was of the kind that could cost your life any day...

She rose from her chair. "One more round, then it's time for me to hit the sack." she announced in a firm voice. "The day I can't pay for my own drinks is yet to come."

Should her friend- who had already proven not to be picky when it came to men- stay and suck up to a bunch of haughty Shal'dorei, she for her part had no such intentions.

 

She walked into the direction of the innkeeper to order new drinks, but as she passed the table where the Nightborne sat, one of the men grabbed her by the sleeve and pulled her down to look at her face.

"Hey Redhead," he mumbled. "Want a taste of my mana gem? It's big and hard."

He was young, tall and handsome as they all were, with their silvery blond manes, edgy faces and blueish complexion, but he'd clearly had one glass too many; his bright eyes were bloodshot and sparkled dangerously in the flickering flames of the big spit next to them.

Although now wine-heavy, Ylena recognized his voice at once; she had earlier heard it complain about the abscence of Arcwine on the menu, and claim all Troll drinks tasted like horse piss.

Evidently, he'd still had more than his fair share of it- and it had done little to improve his manners.

Now she knew of the Nightbornes' former addiction to the Nightwell, and also that some of them still carried mana gems with them in case they were up for a little magic snack, but the nature of this one's invitation was clearly another, as the drunken laughter of his friends confirmed.

Being guests in Dazar'alor, they were all strictly obliged to show themselves from their best side at all times- the Horde needed the Zandalari fleet at all costs, as Nathanos never tired to point out- but waiting for an inevitable battle had everyone's nerves on edge. Those who were looking for trouble would always be able to find it, and nowhere was it easier to find than at a harbour inn.

 

Gently, Ylena freed her sleeve from the young Nightborne's grip and smiled down on him.

"Too generous of you, really," she purred. "And here I thought you guys preferred to remain among yourselves. You've been living inside your bubble for- what? Ten thousand years? Such long term inbreeding must have negative effects-"

The Nightborne's face turned red with rage.

He jumped up so abruptly that he made his chair topple over behind him, and his hand flew to the hilt of his sword in his belt.

"You take that back, Sunwell bitch, or-"

"Or what?" Ylena raised a tired eyebrow.

 _Shal'dorei, all the same_. Always quick with insults but unable to take it themselves.

 

Ximo "the Callous", the innkeeper behind the counter, crossed his arms in front of his broad chest and threw them a warning glance beneath furrowed brows.

"Want a fight, take it outside," he growled the first rule of his house. ( The second was for his customers to turn a blind eye on any kind of "shady" business in his tavern. )

"Do not worry good Ximo," Ylena said calmly and lifted her hands in a placatory gesture."No one's going to fight."

She raised her chin to look at her fuming opponent who, now standing, was a good head taller than she. "I'm quite sure I heard the first Arkanist Thalyssra has declared the _Tal'ashar_ ( honour duels ) illegal. And just imagine you lost to a _low born_. Isn't that what you all fear more than death?"

 

"Leave her be, Thaedruill," One of the other Shal'dorei, a few years older and clearly not as drunk as the adresse, rose and laid a soothing hand on his shoulder. "She's one of Blightcaller's champions."

The young elf took a deep breath and his face slowly turned from crimson back to his original lilac tone. He shook his companion's hand off , then slumped back into his chair and poured himself a new glass.

"Of course," he murmured under his breath, but his voice was dripping contempt. "Wouldn't wish to quarrel with the Dark Lady's lapdog."

 

"And what was that?" Quinni asked wide-eyed, when her friend returned with their drinks.

"Attempt at flirting." Ylena replied with a small shrug. "Seems I'm not very good at it."

She emptied her glass, set it down at the table and let the content of her flat purse follow suit, save for a few coins to hire one of the pterrordaxes from Ripa, the flight master across the street- it would be a long walk home and she didn't feel up for it right now.

"That should do it. Tomorrow night, same time, same place?"

Quinni sighed. "If you insist."

"Good. I'll pick you up after work. _Shorel'aran._ ( Farewell. )"

" _Al diel shala_. ( Safe travels. )" her friend anwered, her pretty face suddenly serious. "And I mean it. Take care."

 

 

Outside, in front of the tavern, Brighteye rose gracefully to her paws and acknowledged her mistress' arrival with a hearty yawn.

Clearly the (allegedly nocturnal )animal had slept through the last few hours, and likely after she had again scrounged a fish or two from Zandalari fishermen on their way home.

"You're getting fatter and lazier every day," Ylena teased softly as she rubbbed the soft fur in her pet's neck."Could just as well have tamed myself one of those big ugly toads out here."

Visibly unimpressed by her mistress' quips, the lynx closed her eyes and purred lowly. She seemed to know quite well that Ylena would never voluntarily replace her- let alone with a _reptile_ \- and after all, the charitable Zandalari saved her a lot of gold for pet food.

 

Ylena was just about to cross the street in the direction of the flight master, when someone behind her audibly cleared his throat.

Turning around, she recognized one of the Nightborne, the one who had told his enraged companion to calm down and leave her alone.

"I wish to apologize for Thaedruill," he began uncomfortably. "His behaviour was unseemly and very rude."

Ylena raised a brow. "That it was. Nothing out of the ordinary though. It's fine.Your friend is drunk, I've heard worse and I'm well able to defend myself."

The Shal'dorei grimaced. "He's not quite used to the strong drinks they serve here, true," he admitted. "But that's no excuse."

He inclined his head to a courteous bow. "Ledrull Madel, at your service" he introduced himself. "Thaedruill is my younger brother."

 _Ah. Hence the family resemblance_.

"Ylena Autumnfeather. Well, we can't pick our family can we."

"Indeed." Ledrull's handsome features darkened. "And that is more true for ours than for most others. My parents were loyalists, you see, they died in battle when the rebels- the Resistance I mean-overthrew the old reign of Queen Elisandre. We were pardoned by the First Arkanist Thalyssra, but our estate and privileges were taken from us and since then- my brother and I have been fighting to restore the honour of our family name. Thaedruill is actually not a bad guy, but he is still young, quick-tempered and somewhat- embittered by the fate we have suffered."

"I understand." Ylena replied rather coolly.

Although generally of the opinion that children shouldn't be made responsible for the sins of their fathers, she had little sympathy for the loyalist Shal'dorei, who had rubber-stamped all their former queen's decisions ( like parlying with the Legion ) as long as those did not affect their own interests. And while they had lived a life in wealth, power and prestige, Elisandre's critics were cast out of the city of Suramar to wither away and die without the vital magic of the Nightwell-

 

"I'm telling you this to explain my brother's behaviour, not to justify it," said Ledrull who seemed to sense her reluctance. "He will make amends for his improper conduct, I'll see to it."

He bowed his head at her once more. "Good night, Ylena Autumnfeather. Until we meet again."

Ylena mumbled an appropriate farewell phrase but in private, she hoped he wouldn't keep his promise.

She had no desire to meet that Thaedruill again; the last thing she needed was a young Nightborne hotspur who followed her like a puppy in order to right wrongs, and only because his brother had told him to-

 

She had almost made it to the flight master when the inevitable voice of Griftah, who conveniently had his stand right next to him, stopped her to once more advertise his dubious goods.

The annoying troll had already offered her a variety of unique and undeniably useful items- like a totem that prevented those who carried it from all harm ( accompanied by the useful remark that if only Vol'jin had had it, the former Horde warchief would still be alive ).

Ylena usually ignored him; she didn't have the gold to purchase any of his lucky charms even if she were stupid enough to believe they worked- which she wasn't.

Tonight, however, and be it only due to her friend's sarcastic comments, she asked him if he had a talisman that could free its bearer of the curse of unrequited affection.

She watched how the initially happy expression on Griftah's ugly face about having found a potential customer turned into a thoughtful frown.

"I'm afraid, I don't have da kind of item you desire," he answered at last and then, with a calculating look at her from his sly, black eyes. "But I have a friend who has a friend who might- for a price, of course."

"Of course." Ylena replied dryly.

"Not even an awful lot," the shady figure was quick to correct himself. "After all," he added with a greasy smile. "a beauty like you should have no problems to charm any living man."

"And that, my friend, "Ylena grimaced." is just the point."

"Want a ride home?" the deep voice of Ripa, the flight master, barged in. "Or are you really going to spend all dat hard earned gold on a trickster like him?"

 

Home. Bed. Yes. Great idea.

 

Ylena reached for her purse to scrape her remaining coins together but at this moment, a throaty and only too familiar voice stopped her in her tracks.

"There you are," said Garona Halforcen and stepped between her and the flight master. "He wants to see you."

 

It was needless to ask who _he_ was. There was only one "he". But it was the middle of the night and he had never before called for her at such an ungodly hour.

 

Ylena gave a deep sigh. " _Now_?"


	3. A Stroll Through A Cemetery

Tired, ill-humoured and anything but sober, Ylena struggled to keep up with Garona who strode forcefully towards the docks.

"How did you know where to find me?" she asked.

The taller, and considerably more powerfully built woman, shrugged her broad, green shoulders. At the first glance, she was clearly recognisable as an orc, but that was only one half of her, the other was human- or even _dranei_ , if the latest rumours were true. She lacked their typical tail though, and if she had hooves for feet was impossible to tell because she always wore heavy leather boots despite the heat, and Ylena didn't dare ask.

"I was told to search the taverns and this was the first one on my way." Garona replied blankly.

"I see." Ylena felt her irritation grow. She didn't know what embarassed her more, that Nathanos seemed to know exactly where she spent her nights, or that he had Garona pick her up her like a nanny a little kid from the nursery.

She wasn't sure how to feel about the half-orcen assassin, who had the reputation of having divided loyalties.

After all, Garona had long worked with the Alliance and even been a trusted friend to Llane Wrynn, the boy king's grandfather.

Until she had killed him, that is.

She claimed that the Horde was her true home, and that she had only pretended to serve the Alliance in order to save her life, but wasn't that what every turncoat would say?

She seemed to be devoted enough to the Horde's cause and never shirked from a dangerous mission, which was something that definitely earned her Ylena's respect, but even though she saw the halfblood practically on a daily basis they had so far hardly exchanged but a few words.

Garona kept mostly to herself and it was no secret that neither faction liked her much-to put it mildly.

But if Nathanos trusted her, who was Ylena to question his judgement? Perhaps he knew only too well how it felt to belong neither here nor there-

 

When they reached the Banshee's Wail, Ylena found her commander impatiently pacing the ship's deck, a map in his big, black-gloved hands.

"At _last_." he snarled instead of a greeting.

Those warm welcome words put an abrupt end to any hopes that he had only called for her at such a late hour because he was lonely and looking for her company.

"I had not expected your call before tomorrow." Ylena retorted, maybe a little more snappish than usual. "It was my night off and I was just about to go to bed-"

Clearly not interested in her excuses, Nathanos waved his hand to stop her. "I'm sorry for having to remind you of it, but we are at war," he replied in a bitingly sarcastic tone. "It won't pause for your free time, just as little as the Alliance will wait to attack until our fleet is ready."

He twisted his pale lips into a grim smile. "I may, however, have found a way to weaken theirs."

"I'm all ears." Ylena stifled a yawn. "Could I get a coffee?"

The smile vanished from his face. "You could have bought one on the way here. This is a warship, not a pleasure boat."

 

But a few minutes after he had led her to his cabin to inform her about the details of his plan, they were interrupted by Garona with a steaming cup of the desired beverage, and even a piece of fish cake which the Zandalari called Sailor's Pie.

"Thank you." Ylena smiled gratefully, and no little surprised.

"You're welcome."the half-orcen hummed. "I always have a little snack with me when I'm working late. _Some_ of us have to eat and drink." she added with a sideglance at Nathanos on her way out.

The Dark Ranger uttered a small snort and Ylena brought the cup to her mouth to hide her smile. The coffee was strong; Garona had added neither milk nor sugar to soften the bitter flavour, but it served its purpose to keep her awake and sober her out.

 

"So we're sailing to Drustvar," she repeated hesitantly and looked up at her commander again. "To do what exactly?"

She had been there only once, to help establish a foothold, and she had not liked it.

Other than Tiragarde Sound where one had to grapple mainly with pirates, the bleak area in the south west of Kul Tiras was the breeding place of a strange witch cult and its crazy disciples.

It was more than a little eerie by daylight and would be even more so at night.

"To retrieve the body of a fallen Kul Tiran war hero and raise him as Forsaken, in order to gain important information about their fleet." Nathanos replied, visibly proud of his own idea.

 

Ylena almost choked on her coffee.

"Dig out corpses? I'm quite sure that wasn't part of my job description."

Her commander's smile was as cold as a winter's morning in Icecrown. "Maybe you should have read the fine print. You are here to do _whatever is necessary_ to bring victory for the Horde."

"In a cemetery."

"That's where they usually bury their dead, yes." Nathanos raised one of his dark, bushy brows. "Scared?"

"What, of the dead?" Ylena snorted. "Hardly." Then her eyes grew wide. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend-"

"I'm not offended." Nathanos snapped at her, sounding very much offended. "Don't be absurd. But I would suggest you keep your bow ready at all times. Not all inhabitants of this cemetery rest in peace. Ghosts."

His voice was dripping disgust. " They are a mockery of the dead. Spirits, holding on although they have no hope to ever truly live again."

And how does this make them so different from the Forsaken, Ylena wondered by herself. But of course this was a question better not asked aloud unless you were weary of life.

Instead, she emptied her cup and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "A nightly stroll through a cemetery then," she smiled. "Sounds romantic."

Nathanos merely snorted. When it came to sarcastic remarks, he clearly preferred to be on the donor's side. He bent over his desk and kept studying his map, and they didn't talk anymore for the rest of the journey.

 

 

Barrowknoll Cemetery was as inhospitable a place as expected, and the same applied for the whole area around it.

What might once have been a beautiful forest landscape now seemed to be trapped in an unnatural state of permanent decay, all the leaves on the trees were withered and brown and even usually shy and peaceful animals like deer were afflicted with a dark spell and ready to attack unaware travellers on their way through the dark woods.

A cold, damp mist hung heavily in the air and Ylena wrapped her cloak tighter around herself as she surveyed the area for possible enemies.

So far, everything seemed to be quiet, but it was an ominous silence she wouldn't like one bit and she told her commander as much.

"A final resting place is supposed to be quiet," Nathanos shrugged her concerns off. "I actually quite like it here. Reminds me of home."

But then a flock of crows flew up croaking loudly and he winced and raised his arm to protect his head.

"I hate birds," he spat disdainfully when they had left in the direction of the graveyard. "Filthy, screeching things. You better get a move on, the night won't last forever. Search the graves. We're looking for one Marshal M. Valentine. I'll stay here and observe the area for- suspicious activities."

 

Sighing, Ylena whistled for her pet and made her way towards the cemetery.

Brighteye got on her paws and followed her, but not without a last, wistful glance at Nathanos' dark saber. So far the proud big cat had successfully ignored all her attempts to make friends- and if that wasn't telling. Like master, like mount.

 

If there were indeed ghosts out here, Ylena did not see them, but as she strode the graveyard up and down she couldn't escape the feeling of being watched.

It was like a cold breath that raised her neck hair and after a while, she believed to hear voices as well.

 

 _We are the lucky ones._ they whispered. _Not you. Not yet_.

 _Embrace your fate. All will drown_.

 

It is nothing, Ylena tried to calm herself. I'm only tired. She pressed her lips into a tight line as she tried to block out the voices and concentrate on her task.

She passed the grave plaque of one Sir Aaron Cresterly ( _Defender of Drustvar,Valiant Hero. Loving Brother-In-Arms. True friend_. ), followed by a "Beloved Lady Victoria Snyder" ( _May her memory be eternal._ ) and a certain Master J. Capaldi ( _Beloved Brother. Master Shipwright. Favorite Storyteller.Taken by the Sea_.)

Most of the people buried here had been sailors as the big, stony anchor in front the chapel confirmed.

But none of the graves was Valentine's.

 

 _I know the things you've done_ , the voices in her head seemed to mock her. _Has she betrayed you yet? She will..._

 

At last, there was nothing left to do for Ylena but return to her commander and admit her failure.

To her surprise, Nathanos wasn't disappointed, instead he appeared to be rather excited.

"'I've been keeping my sights on the cemetery." he said. "There is one ghost that walks with a purpose, unlike the others."

"The others?" Ylena repeated confused. "I didn't see any."

Nathanos frowned. "No? But they were walking all around you." He waved his hand in an impatient gesture. "Well, nevermind. This one- I believe he is the crypt keeper, the keeper of the keys. If we want to get to Valentine's body, we will need to go through the ghost first."

 

No sooner said than done.

Ylena and Nathanos returned to the graveyard, killed the crypt keeper, retrieved his keys and opened the crypt. Child's play, really.

However, and to the Dark Ranger's great disappointment, it turned out to be empty, merely a homage as the corpse itself was lost at sea.

 

But Nathanos wasn't one to give up so easily. He already had another plan at hand, one that required the help of a tidesage.

Those sea priests were a religious Kul Tiran group based in Stormsong Valley, in the Shrine of the Storm, he told Ylena once they had returned to their ship.

The people in Kul Tiras looked to the seas for guidance the same way others looked to the Light, he explained, but the tidesages had a much deeper connection with the water and should be able to tell them exactly were a body lost at sea could be found.

Provided, of course, they could be "persuaded" to aid the Horde's cause.

 

He told her many things more, or so Ylena assumed, but she was no longer able to listen for exhaustion and tiredness finally took their toll.

The soft rocking of the ship in the waves and the oddly soothing sound of Nathanos' sonorous voice lulled her into a sleep long overdue, and she didn't even wake up when the Banshee's Wail again dropped anchor at the home shores of Zandalar.


	4. To Be Forsaken

When Ylena woke up the next morning, she found herself still in the chair across Nathanos' desk on the Banshee's Wail where she'd fallen asleep.

Despite the urgency of their mission he had stressed only yesterday, her commander had let her sleep until well into the day- the sun, already high in a cloudless sky by now, promised another scorching day in Zuldazar.

The second thing she noticed upon her awakening, and much to her surprise, was that someone had wrapped a blanket around her while she was sleeping- and unless Garona had more of a nanny than she would have thought, that _someone_ could only have been the the ship cabin's occupant himself.

A touching gesture, although pretty much useless considering it was almost as warm inside the vessel's belly as outside, and oddly- well- _human_.

Perhaps there was still some humanity left in Nathanos, she wondered, well hidden beneath all the snark and the icy cold mask of the Forsaken Dark Ranger he liked to present to the world, for whom nothing mattered but the will of his queen and who literally walked over a mountain of dead bodies to carry it out.

 

Ylena let out a small snort and shook her head about herself.

Well. So she'd spent the night in his cabin and managed to sleep through it.

And she'd better not read too much into something that had probably been nothing more than an instinctual act, a faint memory of a time when he was still alive and cared for the wellbeing of other people-

 

And still, before she threw the blanket off and got up, she couldn't help but briefly hold it to her face and inhale the scent of it. It was slightly musty as she would have expected, but there was the whiff of another aroma as well which was distinctively manly and not at all unpleasant.

Despite his high rank, Nathanos' domicile on board the Banshee's Wail was reduced to the basics and lacked any individual touch. He had been a man of simple taste in life, and apparently, undeath had not changed that.

He seemed to have left the ship now, doubtlessly to report to Sylvanas about the new discoveries and discuss their further approach. Ylena thought it best to leave as well. She badly needed a bath and to change her clothes, and who knew how much time she would have left for that until her commander would send for her again.

After a quick goodbye to Garona at the mission table, and picking up her ( again sleeping ) pet next to it, she left the ship and made her way back to the Zocalo.

 

She didn't have to wait long for Nathanos' call.

Only a few hours later, she was informed that a suitable candidate among the tidesages had been found, who would with some luck ( or with some threat of violence ) be willing to help them find Marshall Valentine's body.

 

To her great disappointment however, her commander wouldn't be part of the mission this time, but had instead ordered Lilian Voss to accompany her to the Stormsong Valley.

Like Garona, the undead had been a former member of a secret organization of rogues named the Uncrowned, and now served the Horde as an advisor and mentor for newly raised Forsaken.

Remembering the initial horror of her own resurrection, Lilian claimed that she wished to help her protegés adapt to their new situation, but secretly Ylena thought that she was rather unsuited for the job.

It had taken Lilian a long time to accept the painful truth about her condition, and although many years had since passed, she had never really gotten used to it.

Her " _I am Forsaken_ "- greeting always sounded particularly self-pitying ( and Quinni was quite good at imitating her creepy, whining voice ), and Ylena found her endless wailing about everything she had lost rather tiring and depressing.

Granted, it was a bit mean; Lilian's fate was tragic, to be sure- her own father, a High Priest of the Scarlet Crusade, had imprisoned her and ordered her execution when he learned about her transformation, whereupon Lilian had killed him and wiped out the entire monastry where she had grown up- but Ylena just couldn't imagine in how far her presence should be encouraging, let alone a shining example for new recruits in the ranks of the Forsaken army.

 

Thus, she was less than enthused about Lilian's company on her new mission, but things got even worse when upon entering her boat, she saw who her second escort to Stormsong Valley was.

" _You_?" she snorted with an incredulous laugh, too perplexed to bother with courtesies.

The Nightborne turned to her with a scowl on his handsome, purple features. "My brother told me there would be need for a skilled warrior on one of the warchief's missions and encouraged me to- _volunteer_ ," he told her through clenched teeth, visibly no happier about the reunion than she was. "Well,"he shrugged his broad shoulders."Can hardly be more annoying than grappling with dark iron dwarves in Xibala, can it?"

He produced a canteen from his pocket and took a hearty draught. Ylena raised an eyebrow. "A bit early for a drink, don't you think?" she asked as she climbed into the boat and sat across him. "It's hardly afternoon."

Thaedruill gave her a" _considering my company I have every reason to drink_ " sideways- glance and she shook her head with another snort. "Right," she said and reached out her hand. "Give me the bottle."

"Ahh, young people," Lilian commented in her unique, wailing voice. "I used to be young and beautiful once."

The Nightborne warrior eyed her, visibly uncomfortable. Unlike Ylena he wasn't used to the sight of the Forsaken and found them rather scary, and who could blame him?

If it was true that everyone was equal in death, this didn't apply to undeath as well. The Forsaken had nobility and infantry just like the living, and while Sylvanas and her dark rangers looked more or less like their old living selves thanks to the Valkyr's efforts, poor Lilian, like most of the other undead, was hardly more than a decaying corpse, an abomination, a monster. No wonder she was depressed.

But Ylena had no intentions to spend the passage with another of her tirades about the loss of her good looks. She handed the canteen back to Thaedruill, determinedly grabbed the oars and started rowing.

"Better get a move on," she said. "It'll be a long way." She threw him a sharp look. " Which means, we'll take turns."

 

 

After a while ( and a few more draughts from Thaedruill's wine bottle ) Ylena noticed that she actually enjoyed the voyage.

The sea was smooth and the rowing easy, and the steady movement even helped relax her shoulders which were still tense from a night spent in Nathanos' chair.

"So you and your brother are stationed in Xibala?" Ylena asked Thaedruill, when neither he nor Lilian made any attempts at a conversation, but instead stared silently at the waves, both lost in their respective gloomy thoughts.

The Nightborne raised his eyes to her, as silvery bright as the hair he wore in a long, artfully braided plait that reached well unto his lower back.

"With the other Shaldo'rei, yes." he growled in a tone that left no doubt what he thought about his commission. "Looks like the Horde has a policy of leaving the shitty jobs to its new members."

Ylena raised a brow. "Now that is a bit of an exaggaration, I'd say," she replied. "At least you're in the fresh air there, and right next to the sea on top of it. Sounds nice enough to me." She winked at him. "Almost like on holiday."

The Nightborne snorted contemptously. "The air in this blasted land can hardly be called _fresh_ ," he griped. "The mountains are full of hostile, gory beasts and the beach covered in mole machines that spit out dark iron dwarves in cycles. You call _that_ a holiday? "

"Well, we're all here to fight, unless we can serve the Horde in other ways." Ylena shrugged. "But I take it you haven't learned a profession?"

"Of course not. I'm of noble birth." His gaze roamed wistfully across the sea, towards the Broken Shore in the west. "I wish the war was over yet. I want to go home."

"Don't we all?" Ylena sighed.

Generally, she had little love for whiners- let alone _noble_ whiners- but she couldn't help but feel sorry for the young warrior. If Zandalar had been a culture shock to her, it must have been all the more to him- out of his purple bubble, and right into a wild jungle.

In private however, she had her doubts that the end of the war meant they could all go back to normal.

This conflict wasn't like the ones before, the usual tit for tat between Horde and Alliance. Too much had happened, too many atrocities had been committed and the fronts were too hardened; a truce was hard to imagine, let alone peace-

 

She shook her head in order to rid herself of such unsettling thoughts.

"A beautiful city, Suramar," she said. "Or so I've heard."

"Oh yes. The greatest and most beautiful of all places." Thaedruill confirmed, swollen with pride. "You have no idea. Silvermoon is nothing compared to it."

Ylena shrugged her shoulders. "I'm not from Silvermoon. Been there only a couple of times."

Thranduill watched her with a thoughtfull nod, the wiry lower arms beneath her rolled-up sleeves, the calloused hands with torn and not too clean nails.

"You're from peasant origins I can tell," he noted. "But in war, people can rise up in ranks no matter their descent-"

Ylena forced a smile. This Nightborne prig really tried her patience.

Besides, he wasn't wrong. Without the faction war she would probably still be hunting wandering ghouls at the borders to the Ghostlands and dream of becoming a Farstrider; a dream with little prospects of success in light of the fact that there were numerous contenders with more experience and more illustrous family names.

"Indeed." she replied sweetly. "And as your superior, I have decided right now that it's about time you take the helm. Literally, of course."

Thaedruill emptied his bottle until he, reluctantly, did as she told him. And since Lilian was higher in ranks as the both of them, and besides not fit for manual labour for obvious reasons, he had to row all the rest of the way until Warfang Hold, the Horde's foothold in northern Stormsong Valley.

 

 

The tidesage they were looking for went by the name of Thomas Zelling.

As their spies had reported, he was dying of an illness, but he had a wife and two children and would probably do anything to ensure the wellbeing of his family after his death.

The way from the outpost to his homestead led them through an idyllic hillscape. Softly murmuring brooks with crystal- clear water flowed under flowering trees, and wild horses ran across the lush green grass of the meadows.

It was the most beautiful and peaceful place Ylena had seen in both Zandalar and Kul Tiras so far, but the impression was deceiving: Lord Stormsong, the leader of the tidesages was rumoured to dally with dark powers, which was the reason why Zelling had left the order and his family was now penniless.

 

A small cornfield, a vegetable garden and a few cattle gates indicated that he had tried himself as a farmer after his withdrawal, but the farmstead was visibly in poor shape and its inhabitants, a stricken looking woman and two small kids, were anything but happy about the unexpected visitors.

Her husband wasn't here, Julia Zelling told Ylena and Thaedruill with tears in her eyes( Lilian had precautionarily decided to stay in the background ) after they had assured her of their good intentions, he felt that his last hour drew near and had left the house so his children wouldn't have to see him die.

Ylena felt a lump come to her throat at the thought of using this family's desperate situation to their benefit, but she determinedly swallowed it.

The dying tidesage was beyond help, but he could still help _them_ win this war and in exchange, the Horde would see to it that his family would be taken care of when he no longer could. Win-win.

 

And so it happened.

As anticipated, Thomas Zelling agreed to help them find Marshal Valentine's corpse, however, it turned out that he had not made his peace with his fate. He just could not accept that he should die of an illness and leave his family alone when they needed him, and when he saw Lilian he took it as a sign that there was a way out of this: to become a Forsaken.

At first, Lilian refused.

She warned him that he would be changed, that his family would never accept him after his transformation as she had so painfully experienced herself.

But when it became clear that the man was already too weak to use his magic powers, and firmly decided to go through with this no matter the consequences, she made up her mind. A tidesage in the ranks of the Forsaken could still be useful and: "Who knows? Maybe it will be different this time." she said, albeit in a tone that made clear she had little hope of that.

When Zelling had drawn his last, rattling breath, she called for the Valkyr to resurrect him in the name of the Dark Lady.

Ylena had never witnessed the ritual before and found it quite unsettling, and a look at Thaedruill's wide-eyed stare, his usually lilac face now almost as white as his hair, showed her that the young Nightborne was absolutely horrified.

 

And sadly, Lilian's predictions proved only too true.

Julia Zelling and her children wouldn't recognize their husband and father in his new form and fled in fear of the "monster".

 

"I knew it would end like this," Lilian said gloomily when the three of them watched the tragic scene from a safe distance, crouching behind a bush. "It always does. I have seen it too often."

She threw Ylena and Thaedruill a somewhat reproachful look. "We have no place among the living, they will never accept us."

With a pained sigh, she rose to her half-skeletonized legs and walked over to Thomas Zelling, who stood frozen in shock at the terrible realization of what he'd become.

"I warned you that this would happen," she told her new protegé and laid a comforting hand on his sloping shoulders. "What's lost, is lost and cannot be given back. Now come. Embrace your fate and carve your own path. Your family will be taken care of as I've promised."

 

 

When they returned to the Banshee's Wail, Nathanos was pleased to hear about the success of their mission, but Ylena couldn't deny that it had left a bitter taste in her mouth.

She watched the familiar severe, expressionless face of her commander and her heart broke for him when it occured to her that it must have been like this for him, too.

He had been met with the same disgust and rejection from the people he had long and well served, as she had seen it today on the faces of Zelling's family.

There was a reason why the Forsaken wouldn't put their trust in the living, as their traditional farewell went. How could she ever hope to prove them wrong- and prove herself worthy of his?


	5. At the Bottom of the Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's funny, but when I started this I had honestly no idea how much hate Nathanos is getting. With that in mind, your kudos and comments mean all the more. THANKS! I'm so glad I'm not the only one with a soft spot for our snarky Dark Ranger;)  
> Hope you enjoy!

"First round's on me," Ylena declared pompously when she and Quinni had taken their usual seats at the _Spirits Be With You_.

She waved at Ximo and the innkeeper approached them with a broad smile on his face. "Ladies. Always bringing a shine into my humble hut. What can I get my favourite customers dis lovely evening?"

"For starters, two shots of your strongest stuff," Ylena replied. "And a bottle of your best wine."

Her friend raised a painted, perfectly plucked brow. "Something to celebrate? Have we been promoted?"

"Salary raise," Ylena confirmed with a smug smile. "Been a successful day. And now I'm thirsty."

"Well, finally, about time," the petite enchantment trainer quipped. "You've been working your pretty little butt off long enough for this stingy bastard. Ah, the times when a lady could sleep her way to the top- oh _wait_ ," her green cat eyes grew wide. "Don't tell me that you've-"

Ylena rolled her eyes. "Could you _please_ , just for a _moment,_ get your mind out of the gutter? I'm good at what I'm doing and got rewarded for that, that's all. _Not in the way you think._ "

 

Ximo arrived with their drinks and she emptied hers in one go, followed by a short coughing fit- when you ordered "strong" in Zandalar, you could be sure to get strong.

"Spent the night on the ship though," she added casually without looking her friend in the eye. "In his cabin, too."

Quinni almost choked on her own drink. "And what happened? I want to know all the dirty details!"

"Nothing," Ylena admitted as she began to uncork the wine bottle. "I was quite tired. Fell asleep in his chair."

"Oh dear," Her friend shook her head with a pitying sigh. "You really are a lost cause."

"He wrapped a blanket around me when I slept." Ylena felt the need to defend herself.

"Did he now? Well, that's great. I think I can hear the wedding bells ringing."

"Oh, shut up."

Much as Ylena loved her friend, the fellow blood elf changed her lovers on a weekly basis- monthly at most, when they proved especially- _satisfactory_. By the end of their stay in Dazar'Alor, she assumed, half of the Horde's army and the majority of the local population should have had the pleasure of her _affections_.  What would she know of love?

 

"I'm sorry," Quinni said, albeit with precious little regret in her voice. "Well, I guess you can't tell me more about that new mission of yours? Classified and all that. But I heard you weren't alone on your last one. Tell me, how did your new purple friend fare in the field? "

"Thaedruill is most definitely nowhere near a friend of mine," Ylena dismissed with a frown. "And it wasn't that he would have had much to do. He's a fairly decent rower though."

"Oh, that he must be" Quinni licked her painted lips. "He's got some biceps on him, doesn't he? I wouldn't mind him rowing me anywhere-"

"Well, you can have him any time you want. The sooner I'll be rid of him the better. Those Nightborne think they are the center of the world- despite the fact that the world knew nothing of their existence until recently-"

She threw her friend a suspicious look. "How did you even know he accompanied me on my last mission?"

"Oh, I know more than you think, girl," Quinni emptied her glass and brought her hand to her mouth to stifle an unkladylike burp. "More than you with all your "top-secret missions" I daresay. Remember Paiku?"

"How could I not," Ylena retorted dryly. " He of the direhorns, right?"

"Exactly," Quinni nodded, visibly unaffected by her mockery. "Well, I have seen him again and it turns out he's quite talkative in breaks from lovemaking. And he says, King Rastakhan is acting _strangely_ as of late. Locks himself up in his throne room to consult the Loa, without permitting anyone to disturb him, not even his daughter."

She leaned forward and lowered her voice to a meaningful whisper. "And not just _any_ Loa, mind you. _Bwonsamdi himself_."

"So what?" Ylena shrugged. "As far as I know, the kings of the Zandalari empire have always ruled in close collaboration with the Loa. And much to their benefit, too."

 

And that was true enough.

She herself had witnessed how Princess Talanji had called Rezan when they were followed by the Alliance after breaking her out of the Stormwind prison.

With the help of the devilsaur Loa she had summoned a storm that pushed their ship towards the coast of Zandalar, where her father's warships lay in wait to destroy the Alliance fleet.

"Sure," Quinni nodded thoughtfully. "Bwonsamdi though, the Loa of _Death_? That's a whole other ball of wax. You cannot bargain with death can you? He serves no one but his own agenda. And he always wins in the end. Anyway,"

She shook her head as if to rid herself from any thoughts that might serve to darken her mood and reached for the by now almost empty wine bottle. "Does that salary raise of yours allow another of this?"

"Not for me, sorry," Ylena waved off, albeit regretfully. "Have to get up early tomorrow. We're going swimming."

"Nice." Quinni grinned. "Best thing to do in this heat. Seems like your job's not that bad after all. I don't know how I could have ever pitied you. Want to borrow my bikini? I promise, not even a cold-blooded jerk like Blightcaller could resist you when you wear it."

"I have my own swimsuit, but thanks," Ylena replied with a forced smile.

She doubted that it would make much of a difference to Nathanos if she wore her usual workwear, a sexy bikini -or nothing at all. He would at most raise one of his dark, bushy brows and then, in that condescending manner of his, point out the inadequate nature of her outfit for the task at hand-

But even when she thought this, she noticed how much she looked forward to hear his sharp, dark, and oh-so-sexy voice make the next derisive remark at her expense.

A lost cause. Quinni was absolutely right.

 

Besides, she probably wouldn't need swimwear at all.

There were certainly more effective ways to retrieve the body of a drowned from the bottom of the sea than have her actually _dive_ for it.

 

 

But with that, she should be wrong.

As if to emphasise that the voyage was in truth far from a jolly bathing trip, the next morning brought dark clouds on the horizon, and soon the Banshee's Wail fought her way through heavy weather, further and further out into the Great Sea.

Thomas Zelling had assured them that he knew the right spot, but he felt uncomfortable using his powers to retrieve a drowned body, since such was considered a taboo among the tidesages.

A taboo, as Nathanos told him curtly off in his typical charming manner, that had to concern him no longer. His old life was gone, and with it, any kind of restrictions and moral scruples that accompanied it.

The newly raised Forsaken was doing quite well in Lilian's custody, but he seemed overall miserable and kept talking of his family all the time.

Ylena felt a twinge of guilt whenever she looked at him and thus tried to avoid him as good as she could- or as good as this was possible on board of the same ship. It had been his own choice after all- which was more than could be said of Marshal Valentine, provided they found him.

 

And _they_ \- that meant her and Thaedruill with whom she was to team up _again_ , and much to her frustration.

The young Nightborne seemed to believe ( or rather, to have been told so by his older brother ) that he owed her something like a debt of honour, which could only be settled by saving her life in battle.

But there hadn't been much of that during their last mission, and today, they would at most come to fight some sharks. Hardly something she needed assistance with, and even if she did, she could imagine a dozen others who she'd rather have watching her back.

What were all the other Horde champions doing nowadays? she wondered by herself. Cuddling Vulpera in Voldun?

 

"Stop!" she heard Nathanos shout after what had seemed like hours of sailing through increasingly stormy and rainy weather. "This is the spot."

He turned to her and bored his glowing eyes into hers. "I should warn you, this part of the ocean is going to be very deep, very dark and very cold." he began in a serious tone.

Was that concern she believed to hear in his voice? Hardly. Wishful thinking on her part, more like. In any case, he clearly had a talent for encouraging words.

"Speak with Hobart, he should have all the machinery you need to get to the ocean floor." her commander continued. " Get down there and get back as soon as you can. But not without Valentine's body, of course."

Ylena curled her lips into a wry smile. So much for the concern. "Can't wait," she said. "And I can hardly get any wetter can I?"

 

The goblin by the name of Hobart Grapplehammer proudly presented her and Thaedruill the diver's helmets he had recently invented.

They allowed them to breathe underwater, had incorporated communication systems and headlamps to light the way- headlamps, he strictly advised them to switch off every now and then in order to avoid sharks.

"Awesome," Ylena commented dryly.

She was no big fan of goblins. They might be skilled engineers and tinkerers, but their inventions were always costly, seldom combat tested and notoriously _built to blast_ \- and she didn't much like to be used as a guinea pig.

"Indeed!" Hobart, clearly deaf to her sarcasm, squeaked. "Goblin technology is superior. The Alliance has nothing like that."

Ylena raised a brow. "I'm quite sure they have submarines."

"Submarines, is it?" The little green man threw her an offended glance from narrowed eyes. "And I suppose you know how to drive sumarines, too?"

"No," Ylena admitted with a shrug. "But I'm a fast learner."

"Are we going to do this or not?" Thaedruill next to her grumbled. "The sooner we're done with it, the better."

"Can't argue that." Ylena reached for her helmet and eyed it suspiciously, then she shrugged and pulled it over her head. "Very well. Let's dive!"

 

There were only two of those, which meant that she had to leave Brighteye aboard the ship.

The lynx seemed happy enough with this- like all cats, she loathed water- but Ylena couldn't deny that she felt vulnerable without her loyal companion by her side. She could only hope that this big purple beefcake of a Nightborne proved halfway useful, and that they would make it back before Hobart's magnificent invention exploded along with their heads-

 

As it turned out, the helmets kept their promise, even though it was indeed a very long dive to the ocean ground.

The problem was instead her companion, who had apparently not listened to the goblin's safety instructions ( or simply ignored them ) and left his headlamp on the _entire time,_ which attracted more than a few of the rather unfriendly deep-sea dwellers.

Ylena kept yelling at him to switch it off, but either he ignored her as well or the communication system was malfunctioning, because there was no reaction.

In his defence, the Nightborne warrior wielded his big, two-handed sword with some skill and bravely battled his way through one or another angry shark towards the wrecks of the sunken ships, but it was a pointless slaughter that could have been avoided in the first place- not to mention that blood in the water was known to attract even more sharks.

But things were to get even worse.

When they finally reached the wreck of Valentine's ship, they found it guarded by a big, water-breathing dragon.

Immediately, the brave warrior stormed forward to attack the beast while Ylena backed him up with her arrows.They succeeded in killing the dragon, but not without Thaedruill suffering a gaping wound when one of its giant claws cut through his leg plate.

The ship had been sunk back in the Second War and thus, the dead sailors on it could by now only be identified by the identification marks they carried.

With Thaedruill disabled, the unpleasant task to inspect the drowned bodies was left to Ylena, and when she finally found what was left of Valentine she also found-  someone else.

The identification mark on the body right next to the Marshal said _Derek Proudmoore, Crown Prince of Kul Tiras_.

 

She had no time to decide what to make of her unexpected find, because at this very moment, Hobart had obviously managed to repair the communication system and, upon hearing of the successful completion of their mission, told her to return to the ship.

After a brief moment of hesitation, Ylena grabbed both dead bodies, then Thaedruill who was no longer able to swim due to his injury, and signaled the goblin to pull them up.

 

Back on the Banshee's Wail, she dropped the dead bodies on the planks, before ( a little more gently ) doing the same with her companion and freeing him of his helmet.

Blood kept trickling from his leg wound, his face was very pale and he moaned silently.

"He is injured and needs help." Ylena gasped out once she had removed her helmet as well. "Quickly!"

 

Her gaze roamed over the ship's hull and it was only then that she noticed the bodies scattered about it. Kul Tirans, judging by their uniforms.

"What-?"

"Welcome back," Hobart grinned. "We were a little uh- busy while you were down there."

"Alliance attack," Lilian confirmed. "You missed all the fun. Even Zelling was involved."

Ylena frowned. "How did they know where to find us?"

 

"A very good question." Nathanos' grim voice chimed in. "Although one that must wait for now. Treat his wounds." he told Lilian after a brief glance at the injured warrior, then he stepped unaffectedly around him in order to take a look at the drowned bodies.

Thaedruill's arm shot up, and he grasped Ylena's and pulled her down to his head.

"Don't let them do to me what they did to Zelling," he whispered fiercely into her ear, his eyes round with panic.

"Don't be ridiculous." Ylena snorted. "It's just a flesh wound. You're not going to die. Besides, they don't make their own allies Forsaken." She winked at him. "Although you would make for a fetching one."

It was a lie- Sylvanas had done _exactly that_ during the Siege of Undercity, but that was something Thaedruill didn't have to know and any way, it had been an entirely different situation. Sometimes, desperate times called for desperate measures-

"And by the way, why didn't you switch your headlamp off as we were instructed to?"

The Nightborne averted his gaze. "I don't like it when it's dark." he mumbled almost inaudibly.

Ylena huffed out an incredulous laugh. "And you didn't think it necessary to mention this _before_ we went down there?"

Thaedruill still refused to look at her. "You would have thought me a coward."

 

 _Men._ Ylena shook her head with a sigh. "You are no coward," she said softly and patted his shoulder. "You fought very bravely. Now don't give a lie to my words and let Lilian do her job."

 

She rose and walked over to her commander who stood at the reling and looked at the identification marks of the two dead sailors in his hand.

When she approached him, he lifted his head. For a moment his expression remained as reserved and unreadable as she knew it, but then he did something she had never seen him do before- he threw his head back and laughed.

"Not only did you succeed in finding Valentine, you also brought me the body of Lady Proudmoore's firstborn son?"

He shook his head and watched her with an almost affectionate look. "You really make my job easy, Ylena. Would that I could say that of all my champions."

As always, his praise made Ylena's heart leap, but this time she felt an uneasy shiver run down her spine at his words she couldn't quite explain to herself.

"What are you going to do with him?" she asked quietly.

Nathanos raised one of his dark eyebrows. "Oh, I'm sure his family will be most delighted to have him back," he replied. "But that is not your concern."

His smile turned into a slight frown. "You are shivering. You must be cold. Here-"

He took off his beautiful cloak and gently wrapped it around her.

"You did well today," he told her while absently smoothening the cloak's collar on her shoulders. "The warchief will be pleased."

He paused for a moment and looked her in the eye. She could almost see the brain working behind his pale forehead as he considered if he should tell her what she wanted to hear more than anything.

"As am I."


	6. A Sick Call

_In her dream, Ylena was wandering a place she had never before seen but immediately recognised nonetheless._

_The mighty fortress in the heart of Icecrown exuded a morbid charme, with its huge halls and high walls and ceilings in shimmering ice- and midnight blue, covered all over with artfully crafted skulls as if to clarify that no living being was welcome here._

_But Ylena was no trespasser, she was here on invitation. And even though the citadel seemed deserted, she knew it was not; someone awaited her here in these icy halls, and that someone wasn't of the patient sort. She'd better hurry._

_Up and up it went until the very top of the building, where four stone obelisks carved with runes surrounded the Frozen Throne at the bottom of the rift, entirely made of ice as the stairs that led up to it._

_And on it, sat the Lich King, the dreaded master of the Scourge, who controlled his servants with the Helm of Domination he wore on his head._

_But it wasn't he who had called her here, but the person who stood before the throne and now turned at her arrival. He took off his hood and Ylena whispered his name as she had so many times before in her fantasies. "Nathanos."_

_He beckoned her over and she moved towards him until she was close enough for him to reach out and cup her face in his large hands._

_"Join us," he said. "and we can be together in all eternity."_

_For a moment, Ylena was rendered speechless. Was he really asking her to become a member of the Scourge?_

_Nathanos frowned at her hesitation. "It is the only way," he urged. "And is this not what you want?"_

_It was and they both knew it._

_Ylena gulped. "Will it hurt?"_

_She could see the conflict on his pale features as he considered to tell her a comforting lie, but then he decided against it._

_"Yes," he admitted. "But only for a short while. And the reward will be immeasurable. Embrace the darkness and your sacrifice will be repaid for thousendfold."_

_She wanted to believe his promises and say yes, wanted it more than anything._

_But it would be wrong. In every possible way._

_Slowly, she took a step back and hung her head. "I can't." she whispered sadly._

_An irritated sigh sounded from the Frozen Throne behind them._

_The figure on it raised their hands and removed the Helm of Domination from their head, revealing a silver-blond shock of hair and a face Ylena knew only too well._

_Cold. Stunningly beautiful. And indisputably female. No Lich King, but a Queen._

_"Pity," said Sylvanas Windrunner. "But I told you this wouldn't work. Come now, Nathanos. Our work here is done."_

_She reached out her hand and Nathanos moved towards her and took it. Hand in hand they walked towards the rift and Ylena could only watch in paralyzed horror as they leapt down to their death together, their bodies to be shattered on the frozen rocks beneath Icecrown-_

 

 

She barely had the time to recover from the shock of her vision, because at this moment, the door to her room at the Watertusk Inn swung open to the sight of her commander, visibly fretful but at least- still in one piece.

He entered and closed the door behind him. "How are you?" he grumbled.

Assuming she was still dreaming-for Nathanos had never before asked how she felt- and quite relieved about the welcome turn of her nightmare, her features relaxed into a smile.

"Good, now that you are here."

Nathanos frowned. He seated himself on the edge of her bed, removed his right glove and laid a hand on her forehead to check her temperature. Ylena closed her eyes, turned her head and snuggled her hot face into his pleasantly cool touch.

His hand trembled slightly as he retracted it. "You're feverish," he stated the obvious.

Either the touch of his cool hand or his matter-of-fact tone served to tear her fully back into consciousness.

"What- _why_ -"

With a jolt, Ylena sat up in her bed and her eyes grew wide. He really was _here_. In her _room_. "What happened?" she stuttered. " Why have you come?"

"I haven't heard from you in two days." the Dark Ranger replied. "Garona enquired about you at the _Sprits Be With You_ , and the enchantress told her you were- unwell."

"Why yes," Ylena rubbed her aching temples. "Must have caught a cold on our last mission. Nothing serious, I'm sure. You really shouldn't have bothered-"

Nathanos raised his hand to silence her."I was just in the neighbourhood. To buy one of the shrunken heads they sell here to add it to my collection" he clarified. "Thought I'd drop by and see for myself if you're really sick or just taking an unauthorized vacation."

"Oh I would never- but I'm glad you came. " Ylena smiled. "Can I offer you somethi-"

Her bleary gaze flew across her room, where carelessly discarded clothes lay scattered all about the floor and days old, half-eaten meals on the table next to her bed provided a feast for the flies.

Nathanos grimaced. "Thanks, but I think not. Have you seen a doctor?"

"No, but-" Ylena gestured weakly at a cup on the table, next to a plate with rotting cheese on it. "Quinni was here. Brought me some medicine from a Zandalari witch doctor."

She shook her head. The memories of her friend's visit were shadowy at best. She couldn't even remember what they had talked about- if she had been able to talk at all.

Nathanos walked over to the table, held the cup to his face and smelled at it. "Hmpf. Contains mostly alcohol, it would seem."

Ylena curled her lips into a wry smile. "As all good medicine should. Sorry for the mess in here. I'm usually cleanly as a cat-" She wrinkled her brow. "You haven't seen my pet by any chance?"

"Downstairs, "guarding" the treshold to the kitchen." Nathanos replied flatly. "In hopes of leftovers, most likely. I really don't know why you chose a cat for a companion. All they ever do is eat and sleep."

"Oh, but Brighteye is most effective when it matters," Ylena argued in defence of her voracious pet. "Saved my life more than once. But you are more of a dog person yourself, if I recall correctly? " she added, as if she didn't know that perfectly well. "Haven't you three of your own? "

It occured to her only now that she had never seen them on the Banshee's Wail -or anywhere else in Dazar'Alor. Not that she would be keen on making the acquaintance of blighthounds-but it was odd.

"Where are they?" she inquired.

Nathanos clenched his jaw and his mouth formed a tight, thin line. "Dead. There was no time to get them from the kennels when we had to flee Undercity during the Siege."

He tried hard to maintain a neutral tone but the pain in his voice was clearly evident.

"Oh." Ylena dropped her gaze, wishing she hadn't asked. As for conversations with her commander, she seemed to be destined to put her foot in it all over again.

Poor doggies. What a cruel fate to die twice in such a horrible way, first be turned into Scourge and then blighted-

"I didn't know," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."

With a grim nod, Nathanos took note of her sympathies."Every war claims its casulaties. And speaking of- we have received new information that might turn out in our favour. This is no courtesy visit."

"Of course not." Ylena swallowed. "What information? From- the Marshal?"

Nathanos shook his head. "Not here. I have to go now. There's still a lot to be done. Meet me aboard the _Banshee's Wail_ tomorrow morning, and I will discuss the details of our plan with you."

He made for the door, but then he looked back at her once more. "Don't be late, or else I will appoint another champion for the mission." he warned. "I'll see to it that you get some- _proper_ medicine."

 

He should keep his promise.

Only five minutes later, a visibly intimidated looking Tanubu brought her a cup of some sort of tea ( which, as she was to find out soon, proved to taste every bit as foul as it smelled ) along with a plate of fresh fruits.

"Nice friends you have dere," the innkeeper grumbled as he cleared the table so he could put down his tray. "Told me dat if I don't get you to recover until tomorrow, he would rip out my entrails and wear dem as a necklace. And den, he wouldn't even pay."

Ylena couldn't quite suppress a grin. That was Nathanos as he lived and breathed- that was, if he did either.

But her smile vanished when she saw Tanubu's reproachful look. For a troll, he really was a nice guy. His inn was the cheapest far and wide, and he was even willing to cut her a break when she was short of money. He didn't deserve such rude treatment.

"I apologize for Nathanos," she said remorsefully. " Just put it on my bill. And you don't have to be afraid. He's like an old dog, you know, all barks but no bites. He was worried about me that's all." _Sure. If only..._

The innkeeper gave a derisive snort."From your lips to da Loa's ears," he mumbled on his way out. "Where I come from, we put dogs like dis out of dere misery."

 

 

The next morning brought bright sunshine and, thanks to the horrible tea, indeed an improvement of Ylena's health.

Still a little shaky-legged, she tumbled down the stairs into the dining area where she found her pet staring wistfully in the direction of the kitchen. "Alright, let's go." she commanded. "Work first, food later."

"You be leavin already?" called a female voice from the kitchen, before a stocky troll woman, Tanubu's wife and the inn's cook, appeared at the door. "Wait a minute. I have some fish waste left for da sweet kitty. Poor animal be much too tin jus' like you."

"Thanks but we're in quite a hurry," Ylena dismissed with a forced smile "Shorel' Aran, Nami."

"May de Loa protect you." the Zandalari woman replied in a serious tone.

 

"Poor animal, indeed," Ylena snorted once they were outside. "My heart bleeds for you. On the verge of starvation, are we? If you get any fatter I'll sell you to the butcher and have myself made a rug out of your fur." she added in her best imitation of Nathanos' voice.

The lynx gave her a wry look, then opened her mouth to a hearty yawn to show what she thought of such empty threats.

Ylena shrugged her shoulders with a sigh. Zandalar really did have a bad influence on hunter pets.

 

"There you are. Good." Nathanos noted tersely when Ylena reached the Banshee's Wail.

Without further ado, he handed her a sheet of paper. "Lilian found this letter on one of our attackers. Looks like there's tensions between the Kul Tiran leadership and one of their houses, House Ashvane. This might give us a good opportunity to sow some chaos in Boralus."

"Count me in." Ylena smiled. At least, it wouldn't be Drustvar again. "May I ask what sort of "chaos" you have in mind?"

Nathanos opened his mouth to elaborate his plan, but then he suddenly brought a hand to his heart and sank into a deep bow.

"My queen."

 

Ylena spun around and quickly followed her commander's example when she recognized her warchief, who had just entered the ship- much to her surprise, and as it seemed, Nathanos' as well.

"Is everything in order?" Sylvanas Windrunner enquired coolly, without bothering with greetings.

"Yes, my lady," Nathanos hurried to assure her, with a softness in his tone that Ylena wouldn't have thought possible. "I was just about to brief the champion about our planned strike on Boralus."

Sylvanas stepped closer and Ylena couldn't suppress a small pang of jelousy, when she realised that the memory of her beauty had not failed her.

The former Ranger General of Silvermoon was said to have been an outstanding beauty even by High Elve standards, and death had done little to change that.

If the Val'kyr had done a good job on Nathanos, they had certainly surpassed themselves on Sylvanas. ( Or rather-exhausted themselves, as she knew. ) Her eccentric eye make- up and her bluish complexion might be debatable, but otherwise she looked as stunning as a corpse could.

"Good. See it done." the Banshee Queen ordered. "And dispatch reports of your progress to me."

She turned to leave and Nathanos bowed again. "We will not fail you." he promised. "Safe journey, my lady."

At first, it looked as if his farewell would remain as unanswered as his welcome, but then the warchief hesitated, and threw a look back at him over her shoulder. "Farewell, Nathanos."

Ylena looked up at her commander whose eyes remained fixed on Sylanas' back as she walked away, and her heart sank.

The stern, reserved expression she knew was gone, replaced by a look of deep longing and downright raw desire, and none of it was for her- or would ever be for her.

She had been a fool to pretend otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ylena's fever dream is obviously a reference to the fan theory that Sylvanas is to become the next Lich King- which I think would be pretty cool, but given her history with Arthas, rather absurd. Plus, I just don't see her wearing headgear that covers her entire face. Those Val'kyrs didn't die for nothing ;)
> 
> Thanks so much for your Kudos and feedback, it really means a lot! As always, I hope you enjoyed!


	7. Ready For War

As it turned out, when Nathanos had spoken of a planned strike on Boralus, he did not have a direct attack on Kul Tiras' well- fortified capital in mind.( And how could he? It would be nothing short of a suicide mission even with the help of the Zandalari fleet, and they didn't even have it yet. )

Instead, the extended crew of the Banshee's Wail- consisting of Lilian Voss, Thomas Zelling, Nathanos and Ylena herself- headed to Plunder Harbour, a pirate's nest at the east coast of Tiragarde Sound and the Horde's foothold there.

And aboard along with them was also Derek Proudmoore, still laying dead in his coffin like a good corpse.

He had sent the newly risen Marshal Valentine with an urgent message to Katherine Proudmoore, Nathanos explained to them once they had arrived, telling her they had her son and inviting her to come and get him.

"So we're really going to return Derek to his mother?" Ylena asked rather incredulously.

"No," Nathanos replied with a tight-lipped smile. "And it would be too much to hope for her to come in person to an enemy outpost. Instead, she will send some of her strongest guards to retrieve her son's body- which is exactly what we want."

Owings, the young captain of the Fogsail Freebooters frowned at these news. " I allowed your Horde to make base in my harbor." he complained. " I did _not_ give you permission to lead the Proudmoore fleet to my very door."

Nathanos smile grew a tad strained. "We will pay you plenty for your- _trouble_." he replied sharply, at which the pirate captain snorted, but refrained from further objections from then on.

"Our mission here is to retrieve the Abyssal Scepter, located deep inside the Stormsong Monastery in Boralus." the Dark Ranger went on. "As Zelling assured me, it is is an artifact of immense power over the sea. One we can use to gain advantage over the Kul Tiran fleet."

He turned to the bald Nightborne next to him who had been silent until now. "As soon as we can be sure our diversionary tactic took effect, Chief Telemancer Oculeth here will open a portal for Ylena and Zelling to go through and retrieve the scepter. Meanwhile, we will take care of the Kul Tiran ships."

Zelling bowed his head. "As you wish, Nathanos."

Wordlessly, Ylena grabbed her bow and whistled up her pet.

Nathanos gave her a serious look. "Remember, you will arrive deep in Boralus." he warned. "Be on high alert."

Ylena just nodded and averted her gaze. She could not quite bear to look at him at the moment.

It didn't take long until two Kul Tiran ships arrived.

Nathanos gave Oculeth a sign, and he opened a portal into the Stormsong Monastery in the south of Boralus, the location where Tidesages were trained.

 

"The Scepter is locked away behind a ritual," Zelling explained when they had reached their destination." It needs three relics in order to retrieve it: The Compass of Clarity, the Curio of the Depths and the Key of the Sea. They will probably be guarded by other Tidesages, but many of them have given themselves to Dark Magic so- do not hesitate to kill them."

He didn't look at her when he spoke and sounded rather absent-minded.

Ylena raised a quizzical brow at him. "Are you quite okay?" she inquired.

It wasn't just sympathy that made her ask this- a distracted companion was an unreliable companion, and an unreliable companion could prove fatal in battle.

Zelling looked at her and sighed. "I'm not sure if- I still haven't-this isn't easy," he admitted. "Miss Voss says, proving my worth to the Blightcaller is the best way to keep my family safe. My family-"

Ylena nodded a little impatiently. " They are still in your thoughts. I understand that."

"They are EVERYTHING to me!" Zelling whispered fiercely. "I- I know they don't want me in their lives anymore. But that might change! Once they realize it's still me behind that mask of a monster, that I still love them, I know they will-they must-"

His voice cracked and he hung his head.

His evident grief tugged at Ylena's heartstrings, but this was neither the time nor the place for this.

"Lilian is right, Zelling," she said firmly. " If you want to keep your family safe, you'd better make sure this mission will be a success. Focus on the task at hand."

 

 _And I'd be well advised to do the same_ , she thought, when her companion nodded sadly and began to lead the way into the monastry.

Every time she looked at Nathanos now, she saw again the look on his face when he had watched Sylvanas leave.

She wondered, if they were really lovers like most of the Horde members suspected, or if this was just wishful thinking on Nathanos' part. His wistful expression seemed to indicate the latter- which would also explain his constant grumpy mood. But it didn't make a difference one way or another.

He would never look at her that way.

 _And that was fine_.

After all, she had not been enlisted to catch the eye of one of her superiors- let alone the Banshee Queen's champion.

She was here because of her fighting skills, to prove her worth for the Horde's cause. She could not allow her feelings to get the better of her.

Her family might not be in immediate danger like Zelling's if she failed, but they relied on her all the same.

She was her parents' only child, all their hopes rested on her. Her mother had been sickly for quite some time, and with their daughter gone, it was left to her father alone to provide for her. Whatever money they'd had to spare had been spent for Ylena's training, it was her duty to repay them for it now.

To do her best to stand out and eventually be promoted and ensure a better life for all of them.

And this would only be possible if this war was won.

This was, this _had to be_ , the ultimate goal. Nothing else mattered.

 

With that in mind, the mission proved to be a lot simpler than she would have thought.

The Tidesages who guarded the relics were mere scholars, and Ylena had the advantage of surprise on her side. She killed every single one of them before they could so much as call the aid of whatever dark powers Zelling suspected them to serve, and- although her enemies were hardly a match for a skilled huntress- without any hesitation or remorse. If only one of them escaped, that much was certain, they would immediately alarm the City Guards, and that would be the end of this little adventure.

 

And then, finally, she and Zelling stood in the basement of the Stormsong Monastry and he started the ritual to retrieve the Abyssal Scepter.

 

 _Tides that churn and ties that bind-_ he chanted in a shaky voice after placing the Key of the Sea in the bowl before them.

_The oceans will remain long after mankind._

_Yet your power permit us to harness, to use-_

_Though punish us whilst against your will we abuse._

_Grant me your might to put down our foes-_

_Then your boon I shall restore to the powers below!_

 

Ylena watched him perform the ritual with ambivalent feelings.

As all Sin'dorei, she was naturally fascinated by magic, but as someone who had no talent for it whatsover, this fascination went along with a healthy scepticism.

A spell could be as deadly as an arrow, certainly, but magic was a much more dangerous weapon than a sword or a bow. If done wrong, it could get back to the caster and destroy them along with its target-not to speak of the effects on their mental health from excessive use. And who knew what powers really hid themselves behind an ancient magic item as this?

It looked plain enough though, she thought, once she held it in her hands. Nothing extraordinary really- just a simple wooden stick with a shiny blue crystal at its top.

How such a small thing should be able to destroy the Kul Tiran fleet and turn the tides of war in their favour was beyond her, but then again, that wasn't her concern. Her job was to retrieve it, not to use it.

 

Nathanos, for his part, seemed to have no doubts about the scepter's usefulness and was visibly excited when he took it from her hands.

"Good work, as always," he praised and inspected it with a satisfied smile, his red eyes glowing even more than usual.

Then he stowed it away in his cloak. "Time to leave these unfriendly shores."

"I fear it is slightly too late for that," came Lilian's croaky voice from the shadows. " We have a new visitor."

Another Kul Tiran Ship had just reached Plunder Harbor.

"Then we shouldn't let him wait," Nathanos nodded grimly. "Let's see who Proudmoore has sent now. "

He strode towards the docks and they followed him- Zelling rather hesitantly, Lilian with her hands on her daggers and Ylena with her bow drawn.

 

"Show us your face, Horde scum!" yelled the newcomer, a bulky man in heavy plate armor with Proudmoore admirality insignia on it. "We have a friend of yours. Return Derek Proudmoore to my hands, and you shall have your man back."

He held a man in his grip who Ylena only recognized at second glimpse as the newly risen Marshal M. Valentine.

Nathanos curled his lips into a dark smile. He walked closer and his unblinking gaze roamed over the Kul Tiran soldier and his captive.

"How rude," he said snidely. "Whatever happened to 'don't kill the messenger because you don't like the message'? "

He shook his head with a sigh. "And here I thought Lady Katherine would be sincerely interested in a reunion with her firstborn."

The man snorted."What did you expect, monster?" he spat back. "That she would turn over Boralus and the Kul Tiran fleet to the Horde? "

Nathanos' jaw clenched slightly at the anew insult but his voice betrayed nothing of his anger. "That would have been a start, yes." he replied calmly.

The soldier's face grew red with rage and he tightened his grip around Valentine's neck, choking him. "I have no time for your games, Blightcaller," he hissed through clenched teeth. "This is my last warning- give us Proudmoore or this one will die here and now."

"Ah, my good man. That is a tactic that I could see working on somebody other than myself-" The smile left Nathanos' face and his voice was cold as ice when he continued. "But frankly, you can do what you want with Valentine. He means nothing to us."

The Kul Tiran nodded grimly. " So be it, corpse. I will recover Derek's body over your dead one."

He drew his sword and Ylena could only watch helplessly how Valentine died for the second time.

She felt something akin to regret, athough, if she was completely honest to herself, it wasn't so much for the man himself- after all, she had hardly known him- but rather for all the effort it had taken to retrieve his body- only to lose him again on his very first mission.

She looked at Lilian and the assassin's grim expression spoke of a similar feeling. She had probably hoped for a different fate for her new protegé than to be used as mere cannon fodder.

Zelling, for his part, stood frozen in place. Evident terror was written all over his face and she could practically read his unspoken thoughts. Was _this_ how the Forsaken treated their new members?

For a brief moment, Ylena couldn't help but wonder if Nathanos' reaction would have been the same if it was her, not Valentine, held hostage by the Alliance. Would he sacrifice her as well, just like that, in cold blood? Her heart wanted to tell her no, but listening to her heart had so far proven little reliable where her commander was concerned- 

 

Nathanos turned around to them and raised a brow at their upset faces.

"Take care of this nuisance." he told Ylena and Lilian in a bored tone. "Zelling, you come with me."

 

After finishing the Kul Tiran General- who proved to be a slightly more challenging opponent than the Tidesages at the monastry- Ylena and Lilian returned to the Banshee's Wail where Nathanos awaited them.

"You took your time," he remarked dryly. "I hope that means his death was painful."

Lilian twisted her destroyed features into a gleeful grin. "That it was."

"Good," Nathanos nodded, satisfied. "He really was a rather rude fellow wasn't he?"

"A stubborn one, too," Ylena said. "Even with his last breath, he said Derek Proudmoore would be returned to them- one way or another."

Nathanos barked out a short laugh. "Well, he might be right. But now- to the _entertaining_ part of the evening. Take a seat, ladies, and enjoy."

He looked at Zelling who stood in the middle of the ship's deck, the Abyssal Scepter in his hands.

At Nathanos' inviting wave, he raised it high over his head, and Ylena watched with bated breath how the Kul Tiran ships at the dock of Plunder Harbor went up in flames one by one.

The scepter, plain as it might have looked at first glance, was indeed a very mighty magic weapon.

Her gaze flew to her commander who stood tall and proud against the backdrop of destruction they had just unleashed, a beautiful and terrifying sight in the red glow of the burning fleet behind them.

His eyes met hers and he nodded at her with a triumphant smile. "Now," he said in that deep, dark voice that never failed to send shivers down her spine. "We're ready for war."


	8. Supply and Demand

If Ylena had thought, the Horde would now use the Abyssal Scepter for a large-scale attack on the Kul Tiran Fleet and thereby end the war in no time, she should be proven wrong.

Zelling claimed, that it would take some time for the artifact's power to recharge, and so it was stowed away in King Rastakhan's treasury until Sylvanas returned from Ogrimmar and could decide about its further use.

However, the war campaign put on ice for the time being didn't mean leisure time for Ylena or the other champions.

There was still the problem of convincing the Zandalari to join the Horde, which neither solved itself nor happened simply by their presence in the Troll capital.

And thus, Ylena's next days were spent running off her feet in and around Dazar'alor, to complete tasks for the Zandalari in order to gain their favour, one more annoying and absurd than the next.

There were runaway kids to chase back to the orphanage, packages with supplies to collect which stubborn brutosaurs had thrown( who also tended to stomp on anyone who came close ) or priests to be hexed who got very angry afterwards- just for the amusement of one Hexlord Raal, who even had the audacity to claim that the other Loa made their followers do way worse things.

Some of those dubious tasks were rewarded with gold or armor, but most only served to increase her popularity with her hosts.

And sometimes not even that.

Ylena had probably killed a million seagulls and crabs for Scrollsage Nola, so her beloved little turtles could make it to the water, until she had noticed that this specific quest boosted her reputation with the Tortollans instead of Zandalar.

From then on, she looked the other way and pretended not to hear the old woman whenever she called out to her on the beach. The cycle of life might be cruel, but that was hardly her fault.

 

One of the more pleasant jobs, at least for her as a hunter, led her to the Warbeast Kraal east of the City, the place where the future Zandalari mounts and battle pets were bred.

Initially sent there to locate a missing handler, Ylena also found a half-starved orphaned direhorn hatchling, which she was to first fatten up and then train. She then left it in the care of the keepers, but only a week later, she received a letter telling her the hatchling had too much energy to be trained at the Kraal, and asking her politely to adopt him.

The tiny green fellow proved to be not only quite wild, but also always hungry- which should have made him the perfect companion for her lynx, but unfortunately, Brighteye was terribly jelous of a smaller and cuter ( in other words: possibly more loved ) addition to the family.

While Ylena was still pondering the question what to do with the little bundle of energy in order to restore the peace at her home, she received a call from Nathanos.

Happy about a- hopefully exciting-change in her daily routine, she grabbed her bow and arrows and set off for the Banshee's Wail, her two hostile companions in tow.

 

However, her anticipation had been premature.

Instead of fighting Alliance in Kul Tiras, she was to accompany one Jastor Gallywix on a special mission.

The Trade Prince of the powerful Bilgewater Cartel had recently acquired a mech suit which he called "Gallywix's Mech of Death" (or short "G.M.O.D." ), Nathanos informed her, and was now eager to test it on his intimate enemy, the High Tinker Mekkatorque.

Gallywix was the perfect goblin leader insofar as he combined all of the rather questionable traits of his people, and took them to extremes. His exceptional greed, as well as his egoism and narcissism were legendary, and had so far benefitted him most of the time. Coming from humble origins, he had made it to the very top with all sorts of lies and deception and shady dealings. He was stinking rich, utterly ruthless, disrespectful and very talkative- his favourite topic being his own greatness compared to the stupidity of others.

In other words, the worst company imaginable.

Ylena had already had the questionable pleasure on her first Drustvar mission, where the goblin had made her indecent proposals the entire time, and wasn't keen on repeating the experience.

Worse still, his presence always served to remind her, that this war was in fact less a battle for Azeroth than for _Azerite_ \- after all, the clever goblin had been the first to discover the new resource and understand its importance.

It was also him who funded the whole war campaign with his considerable fortune, and was therefore allowed to meet Sylvanas and the other Horde leaders at eye level. ( Metaphorically, at least. He was four feet at most, and almost as wide as high. )

 

Nathanos saw her scowl and shrugged his broad shoulders.

"I dislike him too," he grumbled contemptously. "But someone has to make sure he won't blow himself up with this new invention of his. As long as this war lasts, we will still need him and his gold."

Ylena surpressed a grin.

"Dislike"was quite an understatement. She knew Nathanos hated Gallywix with a passion, and also that the feeling was mutual.

Her commander had once chastised the Trade Prince for his constant chatter, as such was ill befitting a leader of the Horde in his opinion, and since then the goblin always addressed him mockingly as "Banshee Prince", or also "Prince of all that's death and destruction".

She had no doubt that Nathanos would be the first to cut off his ugly head as soon as his services were no longer needed, and when he did, she would happily hand him the knife for the job.

But it would probably never come to this. Gallywix had already survived numerous attempts at his life, he would somehow worm his way out as he always did-

 

"I know," Ylena sighed. "But why me? Are none of the other champions available?"

Regretfully, Nathanos shook his head. "I'm afraid, no. Most are off to Tiragarde Sound with Rexxar, to raid the Alliance's Azerite weaponry in the Norwington estate. And Gallywix has asked specifically for you."

"Great." Ylena mumbled sullenly. "Alright, where is he?"

She squared her shoulders, at which the baby direhorn under her coat saw his chance to wriggle out of his prison.

Nathanos raised his bushy brows when he saw the small scaly head peek out of her collar. "And what's that?" he teased. "Have you finally decided to tame yourself a more- _warlike_ companion? Will take some time until this one's ready for battle though, it would seem."

"Well-no,"

Ylena threw Brighteye at her side a quick, apologetic glance.

"I'm not planning to replace my pet. The hatchling was a sort of gift for helping out at the Warbeast Kraal, but frankly I don't know what to do with him. I was thinking of giving it to my friend Quinni, but the Hall of Glimmers wouldn't be the right place for him and he's rather energetic- if I left him at the inn I would find my room disassambled when I return-"

She looked up at her commander and her eyes grew wide when the sudden idea hit her.

_Of course!_

Nathanos had lost his beloved dogs, wouldn't he be happy to have a new pet?

Granted, a direhorn was no puppy, and it was quite vicious too- but at least it wasn't a bird. And the Dark Ranger was exactly the kind of person who'd be capable of containing her fosterling's excess energy-

 

Nathanos saw her calculating look and raised his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Oh no." he snorted. "No way."

"Only as long as I'm gone," Ylena begged. "I can't take him with me and there's no one else-"

She held the small animal up at him with her arms outstretched. " _Please_ -"

Frowning, Nathanos looked from her to the baby lizard, then across the ship for someone who might take the unwanted task from him. Finding no one, he sighed and at last resigned to his fate.

"Very well," he grumbled. "This one time."

He took the struggling, hissing animal from her hands and quickly hid it beneath his cloak. "Gallywix is waiting for you below deck." he said. "When I last saw him, he was playing cards with that Nightborne warrior. Most likely cheating him off his last coins right now. Good luck with your endeavour. I am counting on you to not disappoint me."

"I won't," Ylena hastened to assure him. "And thank you for taking care of my pet."

She wrinkled her brow. "You- you wouldn't hurt him would you?"

Nathanos smiled darkly. "That depends on his behaviour. Either way, you'd better make sure to make it back in one piece."

 

As Nathanos had predicted, Jastor Gallywix sat at a table with Thaedruill, a card game between them.

Despite war and supply problems, the goblin seemed to have gotten even fatter than when she had last seen him; he had at least four chins and his naked belly beneath his vest stuck out almost two full paces in front of him. As if to make up for his shortness, he wore a distinctive top hat, and a necklace with a big, sparkling rock lay on his green chest.

"Why _hellooo_ gorgeous!" he crowed once he saw Ylena descending the stairs to the lower deck. "I was just telling my new friend here how I couldn't wait to see your lovely face again."

He gestured at a very morose looking Thaedruill across him. "And just in time to take over before I win the shirt off his back! Up for a little game? But I should warn you- I seem to be on a winning streak- as always!" He wiggled his ears and cackled at his own joke.

Ylena rolled her eyes and crossed her arms in front of her chest. "I'm not here to play cards. Nathanos told me you have a job for me."

"Oh, sure, sure I do," the Trade Prince nodded and winked at her. "Always business before pleasure eh? What's wrong with all you people nowadays? Nobody knows how to have fun any more! Least of all the Blightcaller hehe."

"Well, we are at war, maybe that's why," Ylena retorted dryly. "Just in case you forgot."

"Oh, but how could I?" Gallywix, suddenly serious, said. "Just imagine I wouldn't have found out about the Azerite and told Sylvanas about it? Maybe we would have never started this whole Blood War. Never burned down that tree, still have the undead city-"

He shook his head. "Might have avoided all the bloodshed, all the senseless, brutal deaths- makes one think doesn't it?"

He looked up at her from wide eyes, and then, seeing her troubled expression, he pointed his finger at her and burst into laughter.

"Ha ha!" he crowed. " _Got ya!_ You should see your face! Of course I don't care about that stuff. As long as it makes me money, it's a good war."

 

"I think we got your point." Thaedruill, clearly no bigger fan of the goblin than she was, interrupted sharply. "Now where's that great war machine of yours?"

"Ah, yes, the G.M.O.D." Gallywix nodded and wiped tears of laughter from his eyes. "My latest creation that someone else came up with and built for me. You won't believe it when you see it. Powerful Mech, running on Azerite. _Lots_ of Azerite. And that's where you come in. After me! Jump on my trike and I'll tell you more on the way."

He hopped off his chair and up the stairs, and Ylena and Thaedruill followed him, the latter still limping a little as he walked.

"Are you fully healed yet?" she enquired with a frown.

The Nightborne warrior shrugged the broad shoulders beneath his plate armor. "I'm fine, thanks for asking." he said cooly. "And if you were so concerned about my well-being, you could have visited me. That's what friends do where I come from."

Ylena raised a brow at this unexpected reaction. "You would have wanted me to visit you?" she asked incredulously.

Thaedruill clenched his jaw. "I said you could have, not that I wanted it." he clarified.

"A-ha. Well, I was sick too, you know. Just a three-days- fever, nothing uncommon in this climate." she added quickly when it occured to her that it might sound like an apology. "And after that, well, you know how it is. Much to do and all. And it wasn't like you were mortally wounded-"

He stopped her with a wave of his hand. "Really, it's fine. I should have said nothing."

He pushed himself past her and stomped up the stairs. Ylena watched his stiff back and chewed her lower lip, confused.

Since when did Thaedruill consider her a _friend_?

She had by now more or less accepted the fact that he was ( and probably would be for the unforseeable future ) part of the team, but she still thought of him as hardly more than an annoying nuisance, imposed on her without her having a say in the matter- and would have thought he shared the sentiment.

Perhaps he didn't have many other friends here. Or else- she thought with a frown, when she recalled their first meeting at the Spirits Be With You- he _did_ , and this was just a new strategy to get into her pants so he'd have something to brag about in front of them.

 

"Are you coming or not?" came Gallywix's grousing voice from the upper deck and interrupted her musings. "Time- money- you get the meaning."

Sighing, Ylena shook her head and followed Thaedruill up the stairs.

 

It was a pleasant ride on Gallywix's trike, along the beach with the warm wind in her hair- or would have been one, had the goblin stopped talking.

"We have a small- supply problem at the Bilgewater Bonanza," he explained on the way. "There are those Azerite-infused elementals, and the power of it drives them crazy so they attack my workers. So, we'll have to take them out to get the production running again. We- that means _you_ , of course."

He turned to her with a greasy smile. "But you're a cutie and a smarty, so I really don't understand why you'd want to do the dirty work for others. I could think of a better use for those pretty little hands of yours. The doors of my Pleasure Palace in Azshara are always open for a pretty girl with- _ambitions_. I already have some Blood Elf ladies, of course, but not yet a redhead. Think about it. A life in luxury, with no worries in the world-"

"No, thanks." Ylena growled through clenched teeth.

They'd had this conversation before, but it was all the more embarassing with Thaedruill listening.

"And as for your kitty-" Gallywix continued as if she had said nothing. "I have just recently ordered dozens of Jeweled Onyx Panthers from Pandaria to roam the grounds of my palace, so there would be no lack of playfellows-" He was obstinate, she had to give him that.

To her great surprise, the Nightborne warrior on the backseat leapt to her defence.

"Something wrong with your ears?" he snarled at the goblin. "The lady said no."

 _Wow._ Ylena looked away to hide her amused grin. So she was suddenly a lady now, too? But it was nice of him, to be sure.

Not in the least ashamed, let alone intimidated, Gallywix threw Thaedruill a sly sideglance. "No need to be jelous, lad. There are open vacancies for a handsome fellow like you as well, I'm sure." He stroked his chins, musing. " In fact, I don't think I have a Nightborne yet. Would make for a nice change. A poolboy perhaps-"

The warrior's face turned from lilac to deep red, down to the roots of his silver blonde hair. "Are you insinuating that _I-_ " he began to stammer, too angry and flustered to get the words out.

It was mean, but Ylena couldn't stop herself from chuckling. The image of a lightly dressed Thaedruill, fishing rubber ducks out of Gallywix's pool, or following him with towels to the sauna was beyond hilarious.

"Insinuating?" echoed the goblin gleefully. " Oh, I'm not insinuating anything. I thought I was clear enough."

Thaedruil was clearly fuming, Ylena could almost see the hot steam coming out of his ears.

His hand flew to the hilt of the two-handed sword on his back, but at her warning glance and a shake of her head, he grudglingly realised that it wouldn't be wise to kill their employer- let alone while he was the one at the wheel of a speeding vehicle.

But the gesture had not escaped the goblin. "That's the problem with you long ears." he cackled and shook his head. "Too stuck up, too touchy. Can't take a joke. Personally, I prefer Pandaren ladies. Sweet-tempered creatures, curvy and cuddly- and they understand the concept of the way to a man's heart is through his stomach- anyways, here we are."

He stopped the trike and, leaning on his jeweled cane, stepped on the beach. "Have fun with the slime monsters!" he sneered and gestured at his elemental- infested mining system." And bring me all the Azerite you find!"

 

So they set to their bloody ( or rather slimy ) work- Ylena rather halfheartedly, while Thaedruill stabbed the poor goop with a fervor as if it were Gallywix himself. And indeed, a certain similarity could not be denied.

At last, they had gathered enough Azerite for the Trade Prince to get his war machine started.

It really was a monster of a Mech- big enough to carry the four of them despite Thaedruill's height and Gallywix's considerable girth- and then off it went to the Krazzlefazz Outpost in Drustvar, just in time to eliminate Mekkatorque's attacking forces there.

From then on, things started to go wrong.

In his enthusiasm about his new toy, Gallywix had obviously pushed the big red button too often, and just when he was about to confront his nemesis on his airship, the Mech ran out of fuel.

The gnome threw them off the airship and they crashed in Tiragarde Sound but- blessing in disguise- near the Gnome encampment where Mekkatorque's battle plans were hidden.

Gallywix ordererd Ylena and Thaedruill to kill the gnomes who protected it and repair the Mech so he could start round two.

But again, the crafty High Tinker proved to be one step ahead of them- he wore a special suit that made him invulnerable. Worse even, he had activated the airship's self-destruction mechanism, along with a magnetic shield that stuck them to it while he himself escaped in a rescue capsule.

They only just managed to deactivate the shield and get out, before the whole thing blew up in their faces.

 

Despite all that, Gallywix in his bravado and steadfast optimism, declared the mission a success. His Azerite supplies were secured while his hated enemy had lost his airship.

Ylena for her part, however, swore to herself never to work for him again, nor go anywhere near a goblin invention in all her life, even if it meant her being fired or executed for insubordination- and a look at her companion told her that Thaedruill felt much the same way.

 

 

Back on the Banshee's Wail to report to Nathanos about their dubious success, she found the ship's deck covered all over with feathers, and her commander and the little direhorn in surprisingly peaceful harmony.

"I've been shooting some seagulls and taught him to retrieve them, " Nathanos explained almost cheerfully.

His eyes followed her sceptical look at the mess of blood and white and coloured feathers on the planks, and he shrugged. "Few parrots, too."

He looked up at her. "It is good that you're back. I take it, your mission was a success as well?"

"Yes," Ylena replied with a wry smile. "Or at least, the goblin definition thereof. All sorts of explosions, you know. But Azerite production is running again and a few less gnomes will live to disturb it."

"Good." Nathanos' piercing red eyes roamed over her battered armor before they came to rest on her weary face.

"Get some rest," he said in a softer tone. " You deserve it. Just leave your scaly friend with me, I can take care of him in the meantime."

"You'd do that? Well, that would be great," Ylena said, trying not to sound too pleased that her plan obviously worked out just the way she had hoped. "Only if it isn't too much trouble, of course-"

"It's not. Don't worry." Her commander averted his gaze and looked down at the small troublemaker who sat at his feet like a good pet. "We'll manage."

"Great." Ylena repeated. "Thank you. Well, then-"

 

She hesitated, but as he said no more, she sighed inaudibly and turned to leave.

He was right, she really was tired and needed rest.

"I suppose I'll see you here again tommorow?"

"Of course." Nathanos looked at her and frowned in confusion. "Where else would I be?"

"Where else." she repeated. "Of course."

Ylena knew that many of the other champions complained ( more or less secretly ) about the fact that Nathanos ordered them around all the time, while he himself preferred to pull the strings in the background. And of course, she wouldn't mind to have him by her side on all her missions either.

But then again, it was also strangely reassuring to know that he would always be right here when she returned, a fixed point in all the chaos, a secure and steadfast anchor in the constantly changing tides of war.

And from now on, he wouldn't even have to be all alone here any longer.

She was confident he would keep the direhorn hatchling. There were plenty more of his loathed birds to be killed.

"Goodnight." she whispered.

And it was only when she had turned her back on him and reached the gangway down the ship, that she allowed her smile to spread over her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, this chapter became a little longer than intended. Unlike Nathanos and my OC's I'm a HUGE fan of Gallywix and his- ahem- greatness demanded an appropriate introduction.  
> Also, this is chapter 8 and I know we haven't even seen a kiss yet so I guess this is well- not slow burn, but certainly slow- execution. Please bear with me, we will get there, I promise! 
> 
> I'm off to holidays so I can't promise updates for the next two weeks and what is worse, I won't be able to play next patch when it's on.  
> For those of you who are, have fun in Nazjatar!
> 
> And as always, thanks for reading ♥


	9. War Is Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Short Chapter to begin with, but things will get more heated soon, I promise. As always, thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoy!

King Rastakhan was dead, slain by Alliance forces.

Among the leaders of the Horde and diverse Zandalari dignitaries, Ylena stood before the laid out body of the king in front of the Great Zeal of Dazar'Alor to pay him her last respects.

She stood as stone-faced and motionless as the mighty statues that surrounded the entrance to the throne room, but behind her pale forehead her thoughts raced in rage and helpless despair.

How could it have come to this?

Her eyes roamed from Nathanos who kneeled respectfully in front of the casket to the king's daughter, princess Talanji- no- _queen_ Talanji now. She knew the Troll woman to be hardly older than herself, but today the obvious grief on her craggy features made her look decades older.

 

Only two days ago her commander had informed her that they had received information about a planned strike of the Alliance's fleet in Nazmir, whereupon they had escorted the princess and the majority of the Zandalari troops there.

The area north of Zuldazar was said to have once been the shining heart of troll civilization, but now it was hardly more than a bleak swamp, riddled with ruined reminders of its former greatness and teeming not only with countless insects and dangerous beasts but also with the murderous worshippers of the evil Blood God G'huun.

Unpleasant a destination as Nazmir already was, they had furthermore found it covered all over with an unnatural mist- evoked, as they first assumed, by Alliance mages to hide their fleet.

Together with Talanji's troops they had fought a few small skirmishes against enemy forces and Blood Trolls alike, but it was only when they found and killed a lightforged dranei named Blademaster Telaamon, that they learned the bitter truth.

The Alliance had stolen back the Abyssal Scepter from King Rastakhan's treasury and used it to create the mist, and it had indeed been a means of conceilment, but not to hide what was there but instead what was _not_.

There was no Alliance fleet in Nazmir, never had been.

It had all been a ruse to lure the Zandalari forces into the swamps when the enemy planned to attack right through the front door.

Certain of an attack in Nazmir,they had left the Zandalari capital nearly defenseless, and when they finally realized their mistake it was already too late.

When they returned to Zul'Dazar they found most of the fleet destroyed, the city raided by the Alliance and the king himself mortally wounded and left to die in the arms of his daughter.

 

Ylena pressed her eyes close to prevent the angry tears that burned in her eyes from flowing.

What poor allies they had proven to be to the Zandalari!

Instead of protection and prosperity the Horde had so far offered them nothing but death and destruction, by dragging them into a blood war that wasn't theirs to begin with.

She turned her head to look at the assembled mourners behind her and found her sentiment reflected on their solemn faces.

 

"Thank you for coming." she heard Talanji say, directed at the Horde leaders.

Although weary and full of grief, her voice still sounded firm and determined as a queen's- which indeed she was now.

"Zul'Dazar is still reeling from de Alliance attack. My people's faith has been shaken and so has my own."

Baine Bloodhoof, the massive high chieftain of the Tauren- looking more massive still for the big totem poles he wore for shoulder pads- bowed before her. "I too know the pain of losing a father." he said in a low, sympathetic tone. "If there is anything I can do, please do not hesitate to ask."

"You have seen firsthand the treachery of the Alliance," Nathanos' considerably fiercer voice chimed in. "Let your grief be sated by vengeance against them."

"This is not the time to speak of revenge, Blightcaller!" Baine thundered, all moral outrage as usual.

"Enough!" Ylena heard her commander reply sharply. "The warchief has arrived."

 

She spun and saw Sylvanas who had apparently just come back from Ogrimmar walk up the stairs as leisurely as if she was about to attend a tea party instead of a funeral.

"My condolences on your loss, princess," she said coolly. "Excuse me- queen Talanji."

Ylena could not help but think that she seemed astonishingly undisturbed by the latest turn of events but then- as far as she knew, the Banshee Queen had never been one to wear her heart on her sleeves.

And how could she not be distressed? Despite all their efforts, the war campaign had so far proven to be a failure on all fronts-

 

"Titles mean little to me now," replied Talanji in a bitter tone. She met Sylvanas eyes with a defiant look. "But I must know- with our navy in ruins, will de Horde abandon us now ?"

"We do not turn our back on our allies, Talanji," Sylvanas assured her to Ylena's silent relief. "The war campaign has taken an- unfortunate turn, to be certain, but our cause is not lost."

"My queen," Nathanos turned to the warchief and Ylena could tell by the tension on his features and in his tone how much it pained him to break the unpleasant news to her. "Reports are coming in from all outposts. The Alliance is tightening its grip. Victory is within their grasp."

Baine let out a breath and his ringed nostrils quivered. "Perhaps we can open negotiations with-" he began.

He didn't come to finish his sentence, but that wasn't necessary. He could have said "Jaina" as well as "Anduin" for it was known to practically anyone that he was friends with both.

"Negotiations?" Sylvanas echoed icily and pierced him with her deep red look. "The Alliance slays the leader of the Zandalari and _you_ speak of negotiations? _No_."

She turned around and took a step forward to the assembled company of mourners to make sure everyone within earshot heard her.

"This war will not end until we stand victorious." she announced firmly. A vile little smile played around her lips. "Until the little lion kneels before my throne."

She looked back at them. "Meet me aboard the Banshee's Wail. I have plans to ensure the Proudmoore family pays dearly for Rastakhan's death."

 

And it shouldn't be long until Ylena and the others learned what the warchief meant by this.

When they arrived at the Banshee's Wail they found Sylvanas standing in front of Derek Proudmoore's casket, with one of her valkyrs hovering over it.

Baine came stomping forward and looked from the rotting body to the Banshee Queen, his usually gentle, brown cow eyes narrowed in obvious revulsion. "Syvanas," he bellowed, not even bothering to address her with her title. "What reason could you possibly have for this madness?"

If the dark lady was angry about his disrespect she didn't let it show. She gave the bulky Tauren chieftain a tiny, indulgent smile as if he were a little kid babbling unintelligible nonsense.

"Derek Proudmoore was a hero to the Kul Tirans," she replied airily. "It is only suitable that he should be returned to his people, wouldn't you agree? It takes only a few small- adjustments, then I will allow them to recover their long lost prince,"

Her voice grew as cold and cutting as ice splinters. "So he can slaughter them in their sleep."

 

An icy shiver ran down Ylena's back at those words.

She shouldn't be so surprised; the ressurection of dead Alliance warriors to use them as tools against her enemies had been Sylvanas' favourite strategy all throughout the Blood War. And it was Derek's family who was responsible for the attack on Dazar'Alor and King Rastakhan's death in the first place, it would only be fair to take revenge on them-

But like this?

To be perfidiously murdered by a once loved family member who had been turned into a mindless killer-machine against his will?

Ylena had certainly no more love for Jaina Proudmoore than her warchief, but that was a fate she wouldn't wish upon her worst enemy.

 

Cautiously she looked around and into the faces of the others present to see if she was alone with her unease.

Nathanos wore his usual blank, reserved expression, but she thought she could see something like grim satisfaction gleam in his red eyes. If anyone had known about Sylvanas' plan in advance, it was certainly him.

Gallywix smiled absently. He looked pleased, but if it was with what was happening right now, his latest business successes or a joke only he understood was hard to tell.

Her own ruler, at least in name, Lor'themar Theron, stood frowning with the corners of his mouth down and looked quite pale, but he didn't raise his voice, neither to agree nor to object and thus, confirmed once more the impression that he was only ever summoned for decorative purposes.

Only Baine was visibly upset. He raised his large hands in front of him to show clearly that he for his part wanted to have nothing to do with this.

"No," he gasped. "This is too far. How many times must we forsake our honor?"

Ylena couldn't help wondering if he was ignorant enough to speak that frankly, or if he just didn't care.

"Honor?" Sylvanas raised one of her tapered blond eyebrows. "There can only be victory or death for us, Baine. And death is _mine_ to master."

 

She nodded at the valkyr and the Tauren chieftain turned his head in evident disgust as the winged creature began her unholy work.

A bright, cyan beam of energy streamed from her hands and into Derek Proudmoore's chest and the body in his casket twisted and groaned as he was being revived.

As she had done when the same happened to Zelling, Ylena watched with a kind of helpless, morbid fascination, as if witnessing a terrible accident-someone overrun by a carriage or trampled to death under the hooves of a runaway horse- unable to turn her eyes away even though the sight was dreadful.

At last, Derek Proudmoore rose in his casket and looked around in evident horror.

"What-" he gasped. "What is this? Why am I-"

His unnaturally gleaming yellow eyes rolled eerily in its sockets before his gaze fixated on the Banshee Queen. "What have you done to me?" he cried out.

"Why Lord Proudmoore," Sylvanas said with mocking courtesy. "I've given you a chance to reunite with your family. You should be grateful."

The pained, drawn-out wailing that followed her words, of that Ylena was sure, was something that would follow her into her nightmares for a long time to come.


	10. Unhappy Families

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains obvious references to the "Dark Mirror" short story. 
> 
> This chapter was quite hard for me to write. Please do tell me what you think!

After two of Sylvanas' Dark Rangers had dragged a struggling Derek Proudmoore away, Ylena waited until the warchief and the other Horde leaders had left the ship, then followed Nathanos to his cabin.

Her commander sat at his desk, bent over his maps.

When she entered, he looked up at her with an irritated frown implying that her visit was neither expected nor desired.

"What is it?" he spat.

Ylena made sure to shut the door behind her before she took a hesitant step towards him.

Nathanos watched her worried expression and his frown deepened. "Out with it!" he snarled impatiently. "I have work to do."

Ylena swallowed. She looked from Nathanos to the little direhorn that slept peacefully in a basket next to his feet, and it was this sight that eventually emboldened her to speak her mind. Regardless of all his scowling and growling, a man who bought a dog basket for his pet could impossibly be heartless-

"It is because of Derek Proudmoore," she began. "What Sylvanas plans to do with him-"

"-is none of _your_ concern." Nathanos finished her sentence in a warning tone. "Or do you want to tell me you have suddenly discovered your love for the Proudmoore family, after all they did?"

"Of course not," Ylena hastened to assure him. "I want them to pay just as much as you do. It is not their death that bothers me- they deserve no less for the attack on Dazar'Alor and King Rastakhan's murder- but rather the means by which it should be achieved. "

Nathanos shrugged his broad shoulders. "The end always justifies the means," he said coolly. "I wouldn't have thought I'd have to remind you of this."

"But- she raised him into a Forsaken didn't she?" Ylena voiced what troubled her most. "Doesn't that mean he should have free will? And he would certainly never choose to murder his own family."

"Derek Proudmoore is _no_ Forsaken," Nathanos snorted derisively. "Don't be absurd. He is a tool, nothing more, a mindless slave if you like, raised only for a single purpose. That is, once he will be properly- conditioned."

 

Suddenly Ylena recalled the frightening images of her fever dream and she felt her blood turn cold.

If Sylvanas did not shy away from robbing a resurrected person of their entire personality, what made them different then from the Scourge, and herself from her former nemesis, the Lich King himself?

And how could Nathanos approve of such practices, he, who had firsthand experienced this cruel fate?

But she valued her life too much to utter those thoughts aloud.

 

"The decision rests with the warchief, of course," she said carefully, trying a different approach. "But the Horde leaders all seemed- disturbed by her plan. Baine won't be the only one to think there's no honor in -"

"Oh please," Nathanos raised his hand to interrupt her. "Spare me a repetition of the cattle's mooing, will you?" he said snidely. " He has spent way too much time with his Alliance friends and picked up too many of their empty phrases."

He leaned forward and bored his red-glowing gaze into hers. "We have just sufferered a serious blow, if we still want to win this war we can't be squeamish in our choice of methods. There is no such thing as honor in war, mark my words. It is nothing but a poor excuse for one's own failings. ' _My honor forbids it_ ' - Pshaw! I heard the very same nonsense from the traitor Saurfang when he refused to kill Malfurion. And then Teldrassil burned."

 

Ylena swallowed. Even though she had not been there, she knew this story only too well.

High Overlord Saurfang, the famous old orc warrior and veteran of all three wars, had cut a bloody path of destruction through Darkshore but then decided to spare the Night Elves' leader Malfurion Stormrage against his warchief's wishes.

Instead of carrying out the deed herself in consequence of Saurfang's insubordination, Sylvanas had decided to burn the World Tree, along with a great number of civilians who had sought refuge in it- an atrocity so terrible that even Nathanos had flinched in repugnance.

Nathanos nodded. "Hundreds of lives instead of a single one, wasted in the name of honor," he said in a grim tone, as if sensing her unspoken thoughts." Think about it when Derek's fate makes you uneasy. Think about the millions of lives that will be saved if her plan succeeds. _Horde_ lives. And make no mistake. If given the chance, the Alliance would not hesitate to eradicate all of us. You have heard the warchief. There is only victory- or death."

 

And that, Ylena thought, was probably more true for him than for anyone.

She doubted the Alliance really sought to wipe out the Horde in its entirety (not, at least, as long as the boy king had a say in it ) but if it came to a peaceful settlement of this conflict- and after Teldrassil this was extremely unlikely- or if, what the Light forbid, the war would indeed be lost, Nathanos' head would certainly be among the first they would demand-

 

"And as for the other so-called Horde leaders," Nathanos continued his rant," Oh, I know quite well what they call me, even though they wouldn't dare say it to my face. An upstart, a nobody, not worthy of my high rank and the warchief's trust. But what of them, I ask you? It is no secret that Baine values his Alliance friends more than his own people, and Gallywix loves nothing but the sounds of his own voice and the jingling of coins in his purse. Lor'themar? He has been suspiciously silent as of late, but I know him, he's always been one to sway with the wind and pay lip service. It was the Horde who offered their help when the Sunwell was destroyed and Silvermoon was left with nothing- not least at Sylvanas' urging- and he was grateful then, oh yes, but I assure you he will be the first to turn his back on her when push comes to shove. So you're not telling me anything new when you say their loyalty isn't worth a straw."

 

"I said they were disgusted by Sylvanas' plans with Derek, not that they were disloyal," Ylena dared to object- mostly in defence of her leader, even though she felt little allegiance to Lor'themar and doubted he even knew her name."Loyalty is not the same as blind obedience-"

"What is loyalty worth when it is attached to conditions?" Nathanos asked sharply and answered his own question right after. "Nothing more than a piece of garment you can change whenever it suits you. I know they would betray her at the very first opportunity, all of them, and without a second thought. Like everyone else did. Even her own sisters- but not me- _never me-_ "

 

Ylena bit her lip.

It was true, many had not been happy when Vol'jin had named the Banshee Queen of all people as his successor, and the Horde was in essence more a marriage of convenience than a love match.

Its respective members could not be more different and had little love for each other apart from their common objective.

But then, the same was true for the Alliance.

Nathanos liked to point out that the Alliance cloaked themselves in rightousness and false piety, as a justification to persecute anyone who didn't fit in their narrow worldview- an opinion she shared-but it was also what held them together.

The Horde, on the other hand, had never been ( and couldn't afford to be ) so particular when it came to accepting new members.

Where the Alliance offered strength through a streamlined, Stormwind-based organisational structure, the Horde attracted with the promise of tolerance and individual freedom.

In light of this, tyrannical rulers had never been well received, as Garrosh Hellscream's fate had proven only recently. And right now it looked like Sylvanas was well underway to make the same mistake.

 

However, it could be argued in her defence, that her history had so far been one of constant betrayal and bitter disappointments.

It said that every unhappy family was unhappy in its own way, but the Windrunners had certainly had more than their fair share of unhappiness.

Both of Sylvanas' parents and her younger brother had been killed by orcs during the Second War, and she herself had fallen victim to Arthas and suffered unimaginable torments through him before she managed to break free from his grip.

Her older sister Alleria, whose statue graced Stormwind's Valley of Heroes, was now her sworn enemy and had told her to her face that she regretted not having killed her when she had the chance.

Vereesa, the younger one, had promised to come to Undercity and rule alongside her sister after Garrosh's fall, but then made up her mind when she became aware that she would herself have to become a Forsaken, and either leave her children behind in Dalaran or expose them to the same fate.

It must have been then, Ylena pondered, that Sylvanas had again remembered her loyal servant Nathanos and raised him as her second in command- perhaps to take the position Vereesa had refused, as the one person of whom she could still be certain that he would never betray her-

 

Lost in her own musings, Ylena had not noticed the sudden change of atmosphere, and when she looked at Nathanos again she startled at the way he watched her now, eyes narrowed in suspicion beneath furrowed brows.

"What is the real meaning of all this?" he asked in a dangerously calm tone. "Of all those questions?"

Ylena looked at him with a confused frown. She had no idea what he meant by this.

"I don't understand-" she began hesitantly.

"Don't you?"

Nathanos curled his lips into a smile, but it wasn't a friendly one.

He rose from his chair and walked around the desk until he stood right in front of her.

"When Sylvanas put you under my command, I thought it was because she knew how much I loathed to work with all those self-appointed heroes, who were boasting endlessly of their great deeds in the past and thought it beneath them to carry out my orders." he said quietly, thoughtfully. "But you weren't like them, oh no. You were zelous, never afraid to get your hands dirty, always eager to please- I believed it must be because you were still young and ambitious, willing to fight for your place in the world, to escape the limitations of your simple background- and there's nothing wrong with that, don't get me wrong, I was the same way when I was young. She must have known I would come to feel a- connection to someone like you."

He reached out, cupped her chin in his large hand and slowly let his thumb stroke along her cheek. "And she knows my- taste."

 

The conflicting sensations of his cool touch and his smoldering gaze made Ylena feel paralysed like a rabbit before the snake.

She could still make no sense of his words, but his tone was definitely frightening.

"Nathanos," she whispered. "I swear, I don't know what you're aiming at- it is true, I admire you and I," she swallowed. " I desire you-"

 

His eyes flared up like glowing embers and she let out a strangled cry when his fingers suddenly closed around her throat and squeezed tight.

"Has this been your game all along?" he hissed in a hateful voice."To worm your way into my heart, so I would be careless enough to utter a threacherous thought in your presence? Yes, I hesitated to put the torch to Teldrassil-to blight my own people in Undercity- who wouldn't have? But never, not even in my innermost thoughts, did I plan to actually betray her-"

 

Frantically, Ylena shook her head, but she couldn't have answered him if she wanted to; his iron grip around her throat made it impossible for her to breathe, let alone talk.

 

The terror and confusion in her eyes must have convinced him of his mistake, because he released her as abruptly as he had grabbed her and fell back with a pained groan.

 

It took Ylena a while to catch her breath and recover from her shock.

Never, not by any stretch of her imagination, would she have thought Nathanos could mistake her affection for deception, a means to convict him of treason even!

As it seemed, the rift in his relationship with Sylvanas was much more fatal than he'd let on, and he mistrusted her just as much as he accused her of mistrusting him-

 

"Whatever you think, you're wrong," she said at last. "Sylvanas never ordered me to fake feelings for you."

"I know." He refused to look at her. "I don't know what I was thinking." And then, almost inaudibly, "Forgive me."

 

Ylena watched him as he stood there with his head shamefully turned away, and felt her love for him swell anew in her heart, even though it was now mixed with even more confusion and pain.

"Is it really so hard for you to believe that someone might like you for what you are?" she whispered.

Nathanos gave a mirthless snort. "Of course it is." he replied in a bitter voice. " No one else does."

"But I do." She took a hesitant step towards him, then another, when he did not move. She reached out to touch his cheek and turn his head to make him look at her. "I do."

He held her gaze for a moment, his eyes both hopeful and weary, like a whipped dog's.

Then he looked away again. "You shouldn't. I could have killed you. I still might."

 

Ylena swallowed when it occured to her that this was nothing but the plain truth.

Even if he believed her now, he might still come to the realisation that she'd heard too much, that it would be safer to do away with her. And as her commander, he could easily send her on a suicide mission any day-or have her executed for insubordination if she refused.

"But you didn't," she replied, trying to make her voice sound firm and unafraid. "And I don't think you will."

"Don't be so sure," he said. "You don't know me. You don't know what I'm capable of."

 

He raised his hand and she felt it tremble as he laid it on hers. " This body," he said. "This face, that for some mysterious reason doesn't seem to be as repulsive to you as it should be- and heaven knows it wasn't pretty even before I died- do you know how it was given to me?"

"Yes." Ylena nodded. "Sylvanas had it restored with the help of one of her val'kyrs."

"Ah, but you do not know the whole story. And it isn't a pleasant one."

"I don't care," Ylena whispered. "Tell me."

 

"Very well."

Nathanos closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again, she believed to notice the spark of a deeply hidden pain in them she had never seen there before.

"As you know, Sylvanas freed me from the Lich King's grip," he began in quiet voice. " But even then I was nothing more than a rotting, slowly decaying corpse like the others. One day she came to me and told me that she knew of a way to give me a new body. One that would be stronger than my mortal one had been, better suited to serve her. And I agreed because that was all I wanted, too. To serve her in the best way I could, help her crush all her enemies to return the favour of freeing me and allowing me a new life under her glorious reign. But the val'kyr's powers alone were not sufficient to achieve this goal. It took- living flesh and blood to feed her magic."

He paused and his expression darkened when obviously painful memories came back to him.

"Sylvanas led me to a secret chamber in Undercity," he continued in a gloomy voice." where I was to lay down on a stretcher for the time of the ritual. And right next to me, chained to another stretcher and laid out like a sacrifical offering, was a human prisoner. A young paladin from one of the many troops the Alliance sent to our lands to hunt Forsaken."

 

Ylena thought she knew what would follow.

Her heart thumped in her chest and she felt her arms cover with gooseflesh, but she kept her eyes locked into his, determined not to look away or show her terror.

"He was an enemy," she said. "He would have killed you as well, just as you say."

Nathanos nodded grimly."That he was."he agreed."And oh yes, he certainly would have."

 

"As the ritual ran its course," he continued. "I couldn't see him, but I heard his agonized screams all the time. He called on the Light and begged it to save him, to end his pain. But the Light did not help him. And at last, he fell silent."

He turned his head away and clenched the hands at his sides into fists. "When the procedure was over, I got up, walked over to the mirror on the wall of the chamber, looked into it and found this face."

He swallowed, an oddly human looking gesture on an Undead. "Then I turned and looked to the prisoner on the stretcher next to mine. But nothing was left of him. Nothing but a wet, dark spot staining the sheets."

His eyes found hers again. "He was an enemy, yes. But he was also Stephon, my nephew." he said in a brittle voice. "The little boy that used to come over to Marris Stead every so often to play with my dogs. Who looked up to me, even though he always dreamt of becoming a paladin instead of a Farstrider."

 

Ylena returned his tormented glance and the breath caught in her throat. She reached for his cold hand and squeezed it in hers.

"Your nephew?" she whispered aghast. "That was cruel of her."

"Was it?" Nathanos twisted his lips into a grimace that could have been a smile except that there was no happiness in it.

"Then tell me, what am I?" he said blankly. "Because when I looked at the pitiful remains of what had once been my nephew, I felt nothing. No sorrow. And no regret. I haven't looked into a mirror ever since."

 

He pulled his hand away, turned his back on her and walked back to his desk.

"So you see, Ylena Autumnfeather," he finished in a bitter tone. "I have nothing to give but death and suffering. I got a new body, but underneath, there is nothing left of the man I once was."

 

Ylena watched her commander as he stood with sloping shoulders and his back turned on her.

He might tell himself that he was beyond such feelings as sorrow and regret, but everything in his posture and the evident pain in his voice proved him wrong.

"I don't believe that is true," she said softly. "You are no heartless monster. You _did_ feel regret. And I think you still do."

 

A strangled sound answered her words, a faint imitation of his usual derogatory snort.

"Then you are a fool." Nathanos said.

 

"You're probably right." Ylena agreed. She shrugged her shoulders, even though he could not see it standing with his back to her."Well- until tomorrow then."

 

When he did not reply, she turned around to leave the Banshee's Wail, her mind in deep turmoil. She felt the urgent need to get dead drunk.


	11. Righting Wrongs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers!  
> I cannot thank you enough for all the lovely comments on the last chapter. They made me so happy and were extremely encouraging!  
> A special huge thanks goes out to the wonderful Luna, who has generously offered to be my beta reader and been of invaluable help. Thanks a million dearie ♥
> 
> Anyway, here's chapter 11. As always, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy!

"Are you sure?" Quinni said with quizzically raised eyebrows as Ylena waved at Ximo to refill their glasses. "You had three of those already but haven't said but a couple of words all night."

The two of them were sitting in their favourite bar once more, but the _Spirits Be With You_ was rather empty tonight and none of the remaining regulars were in a celebratory mood.

"Then I guess I'll keep drinking until it shows some effect," Ylena replied in a gloomy voice.

She emptied her drink and grimaced. "This wine is so diluted it could as well be water."

"True enough." Quinni sighed. She threw a glance at the grim-faced Zandalari barkeeper and shrugged her slender shoulders. "Seems like we're no longer his favourite customers. But can you blame him? The Horde's not exactly popular with the locals these days."

"And rightly so." Ylena mumbled and hung her head. Their failure to prevent the attack on Dazar' Alor was still weighing heavily on her mind. "We screwed up big time. If the Alliance intended to make us look like fools in the eyes of our allies, they were successful."

"But the Zandalari won't love them any more for it either, that's for sure." she added with grim satisfaction. "Not after they killed their king."

At that, Quinni gave her an odd look. "I've never known you to mope over other peoples' affairs," she said after a moment."But that's not all what's bothering you, am I right? Won't you tell me? I've heard that's what friends are for."

 

Ylena shook her head.

She couldn't, much as she wished it were different. It would be a relief to share her thoughts with someone, all those conflicted feelings raging in her chest.

But even though she trusted Quinni, it was a risk she just could not take- for both their sakes.

"Have you ever felt caught between a rock and hard place?" she asked at last, trying to stay as vague as possible. "Like- when things that should be right feel totally wrong? And others, that you know should be wrong, still feel right?"

Quinni brought a hand to her heart and opened her eyes comically wide. "Say no more, love," she whispered. "I feel the same for you."

Despite her agitated state Ylena couldn't stifle a chuckle." Careful," she warned." Your Zandalari Captain might get jealous."

Quinni dropped her dramatic pose and made a face."Unlikely. He's dead. He fell in the battle."

"Oh-" Aghast, Ylena stared at her friend whose pretty face betrayed nothing of her emotions. "I didn't know- oh Quinni, how horrible. I'm so sorry."

"It's fine." Quinni broke her gaze and stared at the half-empty drink in front of her."Not going to lie, I will miss our little- conversations. But it's not like we were about to get married or anything. I was, in fact, already planning to dump him. Just couldn't find the right words. Well-now I won't have to."

Ylena shook her head. "You're unbelievable," she murmured.

"Am I?" Quinni asked. "Think of it this way. Paikee died a hero in the defence of his home and people. What more could a warrior wish for? And instead of an ugly breakup scene, I can always keep him in loving memory now. I'm merely trying to see the bright side of things. You should try that for once, you know. It works."

 

And perhaps I really should, Ylena thought to herself. The loss of the Golden Fleet in Dazar'Alor was a serious blow, but at least the city itself was still standing.

The death of their king was a terrible tragedy for the Zandalari, but he had a competent heir to the throne in his daughter. Despite her young age, Talanji was as clever as she was brave, and widely respected by her people-

Her thoughts returned to the dark ritual aboard the Banshee's Wail, to Sylvanas' cold, hateful promise of vengeance, and she suppressed a shudder.

She could still hear Derek Proudmoore's tormented cries upon his awakening echoing in her mind- but they would cease when Sylvanas' plan worked out and the war would be won as a result-

And Nathanos? His story had been horrible and tragic, and he had doubtlessly told it to her to convince her that it was better for her to stay away from him.

But he had also admitted that he desired her as well, had he not? If not exactly in those words. That he had come to feel something like an- emotional attachment to her.

And, quite understandably for someone with his backstory, such feelings unsettled him.

She remembered the expression on his face when she had touched his cheek. He wasn't as cold and unfeeling as he pretended, but he wasn't used to feel something for another person and was just as afraid to hurt as to be hurt-

 

"See?" Quinni said with a satisfied grin when she saw her friend's eyes light up. "Nothing's as bad as it seems at first glance. It's all just a matter of perspective."

Ylena was spared the burden of responding when at this moment, Ximo finally approached their table with the eagerly awaited refill.

"Dere be one of de dead waitin for you outside," he informed her as he poured her the wine.

Ylena's heart instantly started to flutter in hope and nervous anticipation. She followed his gaze to the tavern's door, but in place of the man she hoped to see was a pitiful bony creature with sagging shoulders and his head down. Zelling.

She furrowed her brow. "What's he doing here?" she asked, not quite able to keep the disappointment out of her voice. "And why won't he come in?"

Since Forsaken did not have to eat or drink, they were generally seldom to be found in inns, but they were, as with any horde territory, not explicitly forbidden from entering those.

Granted, it wasn't very appetizing to have a rotting corpse sitting next to you at dinner. Then again, Dazar'Alor was so full of rich, contrasting smells- from fish, dust, animal waste and troll sweat to exotic flowers and fragrant incense from the diverse loa altars- that putrefaction was just one more to add to the mix.

Ximo shrugged his massive shoulders. "Dat I do not know," he hummed. "Just said he wants to speak with you alone."

Quinni gazed across Zelling in front of the door and she lifted an ironic eyebrow. "Well well well," she quipped. "And here I thought your questionable taste in men was reserved for the Blightcaller."

"Watch your filthy mouth, girl," Ylena snapped back, not quite sure if she should be amused or offended. "He's just someone from work."

She emptied her drink and rose from her chair. "Well, I'd better see what he wants. In case I don't come back- the check is yours."

"Sure," Quinni hummed. "It was a pleasure."

Ylena grinned and blew her a kiss on her way out.

 

"What is it?" she asked Zelling once she had left the inn. She was aware that her tone wasn't exactly friendly, but she couldn't help it. Getting disturbed at her nights off was becoming something of a habit lately.

"I- I'm sorry," the newly raised Forsaken replied submissively, avoiding her gaze. "I swear, I wouldn't have bothered you if it wasn't important."

In the face of his visible anguish Ylena felt her irritation vanish and make way for concern.

She swallowed. "Is it your family?" she asked in a softer tone. "Are they- okay?"

"My family?" Zelling looked up at her with his eerily shining, yellow eyes. "They're fine, thank you for asking. Lilian assured me she'd stand by her word and take care of them. But there's something I need to show you. If you're so inclined to follow me, that is."

Ylena raised a sceptical brow. "I'd be more _inclined_ to do that if you told me what this is about." she replied dryly.

"I can't tell you- " Zelling whispered. He took a quick,furtive look around. "- not here. _Please_. Just follow me. I promise, it's not far."

 

 

"Not far", as Ylena was to find out soon, proved to be a great many stairs to climb until well up to the Great Seal.

Where Zelling took a turn to the left and led her down a hallway into the dark depths of the so-called _Hall of Rituals_ \- a place she as someone with no magical skills had never before entered for obvious reasons.

And in the middle of that hall, Derek Proudmoore hung with his arms outstretched over one of those huge, golden Zandalari altars, with two magic beams of dark purple light wafting from the walls right and left of it and holding the prisoner in place.

He seemed to be unconscious, but when Ylena and Zelling approached him he suddenly raised his head and his wide-eyed, panicky stare roamed across his surroundings until it fixed on his visitors.

" _Please_ ," he gasped, breathing hard and in evident pain. " _Help me_! I- I don't know what's happened. What's been done to me-"

 

What little liquid courage Ximo's watered-down wine might have provided, the dreadful sight in front of her served to sober Ylena up completely.

She shot Zelling next to her a sharp glance. "What is this?" she hissed. " Why have you taken me here? Are you _insane_? "

As it seemed, Derek's transformation had not yet been completed, but there was absolutely nothing they could do for the poor guy- and she was _quite_ sure the Banshee Queen wanted no uninvited eyewitnesses here.

The former Tidesage flinched a little at her angry tone but held her gaze defiantly. "I wanted you to see this." he whispered. "This man- he is like me, is he not? What are they doing to him? It's not right."

 

"I remember the battle-" Derek Proudmoore continued in a shaky, throaty voice, every now and then interrupted by sobs and pained moans. "Orcish dragon riders. Our decks consumed by flames. I felt a blaze of agony and then- _darkness._ I was dead wasn't I? But for how long? I am not quite alive and yet- I don't understand this. Please- _PLEASE_ \- how is this possible?"

 

"This is wrong." sounded a deep, somber voice behind them and Ylena spun around to see the distressed face of Baine Bloodhoof.

"There is no honor in it. Her deeds disgrace us all. She desecrates not only the memory of a fallen enemy- she desecrates the Horde itself."

Zelling nodded eagerly at this, but it was Ylena the Tauren High Chieftain looked at. "I have seen the look on your face when Sylvanas revealed her sick, twisted plans." he said. "You were as disgusted by it as I was. We cannot let this happen. I have a plan to set things right, but it requires your help."

"Set things right." Ylena repeated in a flat voice. "How? By freeing a prisoner of war and returning him to the enemy? That would be high treason then."

Technically, having this conversation alone was, and Baine should know. Did he think his status would grant him inviolability if Sylvanas found about about this?

Baine shook his head. "It is righting wrongs," he objected stubbornly. "Each time I think Sylvanas has gone too far she finds a new line to cross, and I can no longer have that on my conscience. Can you?"

 

Ylena looked up at him and felt new anger well up inside her. The beefy Tauren leader exhaled self-rightousness from his every pore ( along with a distinctive cowhouse smell ) and his big nostrils flared with moral outrage.

She had a good mind to tell him that in her position she couldn't afford such a thing as a conscience, that not only her future career but also her family's welfare depended on the outcome of this war- an outcome, he seemed willing to deliberately undermine.

Not to mention that she had sworn an oath to the Horde, and if he liked it nor not, Sylvanas was the Horde's acting warchief.

And what of Baine's own conscience?

It had obviously not pricked him enough to confront Sylvanas after the burning of Teldrassil or the failed defence of Undercity- but now that it was about his personal Alliance friends he suddenly felt compelled to step in. Not a very convincing stance for a Horde leader when you thought about it.

Derek was not the first Alliance member the Banshee Queen had resurrected in this war- nor had she ever made a secret of it- but of course, none of the others had been Jaina Proudmoore's brother...

Most of all, however, Ylena was angry at Baine for dragging her into this.

 

But then her gaze fell again on the prisoner in his magic chains and she bit her lip in unease.

Derek Proudmoore had visibly exhausted himself with his speech; his head had fallen back onto his sunken chest and he groaned softly. Enemy or not, what was happening to him was wrong in every possible way, no sentient being could deny that.

She had not liked the idea from the start, but Nathanos had convinced her that Derek's fate would be justified vengeance and essential to win the war.

However, knowing this was one thing, seeing it with her own eyes, was a whole different matter-

 

"What if I won't help you?" she asked quietly.

The Tauren chieftain lifted his massive shoulders and sighed. "Then we will go our separate ways and I can only hope this conversation stays between us."

Ylena let out a short, mirthless laugh. "So I'll be in this either way, won't I? Either as an active participant in your little rebellion, or in silent consent."

Baine said nothing to that, just kept looking at her with his big, sad cow eyes.

There was of course a third option and they both knew it; she could walk straight to Nathanos and tell him everything.

Which would be well within her right, if not her duty.

 

Ylena cursed under her breath, wishing she could turn back time and erase the last hour from her memory. Then she would have never talked to Baine, never seen Derek and never left the _Spirits Be With_ _You_ to follow Zelling in the first place. But she was a huntress, not a mage, and time spells were very complicated and prone to error anyway-

At last, she released her breath with a deep sigh. "Well then." she said. "I'd say we can only die once, but as we all know, that is not true. Go on then and tell me about that plan of yours, and I'll see what I can do to make it work. You may not care for your head, Tauren, but I assure you, I for my part prefer to keep mine right where it is."


	12. Traitor ( Pt 1 )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear readers!
> 
> I know it has been a long time, and I can't really say anything in my defence except that I'm currently busy with a lot of other stuff, and got hit hard with a serious case of writers block on top of it.
> 
> Thanks for bearing with me, and I hope you will enjoy the new chapter!

Running her daily errands in Dazar'alor in the days after the fatal meeting with Baine Bloodhoof equalled something like a walk of shame for Ylena.

Had those Zandalari sentries and Forsaken deathguards she passed on her way always looked so grim and- _suspicious_ \- she wondered with a queasy feeling in her stomach.

She felt like she had the word _traitor_ stamped on her forehead, clear for everyone to see.

 

 _And that is what you are now. Better get used to it_.

She could tell herself over and over that what they were planning wasn't treason in the literal sense of the word.

That she was merely acting out of compassion for a poor soul who had done nothing to deserve the horrible fate it was condemned to-

The result stayed the same in the end.

 

Sylvanas was her warchief. Betraying her, was betraying the horde.

Worse even, it meant betraying Nathanos as well. The man she- well. The man she _loved_.

Because that she did.

And it was such an ironic twist of fate that she only fully realised it now, when she was going to repay his trust with betrayal.

Strictly speaking, Ylena thought defiantly, one might even say it was his fault.

After all it was only because of her feelings for Nathanos that she had begun to wonder what it really meant to be Forsaken, begun to feel sympathy for those people, for what they'd had to suffer- and suffered still.

She had never given the matter much thought until she met _him_. And now she just could not close her eyes any longer.

If Nathanos deserved the chance to shape his own destiny and his happiness, well- then so did people like Zelling- and Derek Proudmoore.

 

Besides, Ylena pondered, would it really make that much of a difference if Sylvanas lost her "secret weapon"?

Jaina Proudmoore's death would mean a severe setback for the Alliance, certainly, but it would not end the war, just as little as the burning of Teldrassil had.

The enemy would not hesitate to strike back full force and the conflict would enter upon a new phase.

The cycle of hatred would never end.

 

However, her attempts to convince herself that she was doing the right thing did not make her feel any happier with her decision.

Part of her desperately wished for something- _anything_ \- to happen that would disrupt their plans.

Like Nathanos calling for her and sending her on a mission- or for her fever to return and render her useless for Baine's reckless endeavour for the time being-

 

But no call came from the Banshee's Wail.

Her services, it seemed, weren't required at the moment- or perhaps Nathanos just did not want to see her after their last conversation.

And apart from her guilt, she felt perfectly healthy.

 

 

After three days had passed without a word from her commander, Ylena began to grudgingly accept he thought that she would indeed be partaking in an act of treason.

So when a knock at her door came one night, she expected it to be Zelling with a ( hopefully clever ) plan on how to smuggle Derek out of the city.

Upon opening the door she was no little surprised when her visitor was instead a very slim, hooded figure, which on closer look turned out to be one of Sylvana's personal guards, a dark ranger going by the name of Lyana.

She had seen the woman once or twice at the Banshee's Wail, but never exchanged a word with her before. Dark rangers weren't exactly known to be sociable and rarely spoke more than absolutely necessary.

They were, however, well known for being being silent and deadly assassins, and thus, Ylena's first reaction at seeing one of them at her doorstep was a rush of hot panic.

Had she signed her death warrant already?

Sylvanas might dwell in Orgrimmar most of the time, but she had her spies everywhere.

Did she know about the conspiracy and had sent Lyana to arrest her- or even murder her on the spot, in order to avoid unnecessary attention?

 

Years of hunting in a hostile wilderness saved Ylena from making a false move and giving herself away, but she could literally feel the colour fading from her face until it must look no less pale than the one of her undead counterpart.

The tiny, cold smile playing around her visitor's lips indicated that she was used to such reactions at her sight.

"Seems like you know who I am," she said casually as she entered the room. "Good. No need to bother with introductions then."

 

Former High Elf and former Banshee like Sylvanas- as all dark rangers originally were- she shared her mistress' ability to sound intimidating and strangely alluring at the same time.

"The Dark Lady sends me because she has use of your- services." she informed Ylena."We are to take a trip to the Elwynn Forest- in search of Saurfang."

 

Well. Whatever Ylena had expected to hear, it was not _this_.

She realised that she was gaping at the other woman and quickly shut her mouth and cleared her throat.

"Saurfang?" she repeated, perplexed.

Lyana raised one of her long, pointy brows. " _High Overlord Varok Saurfang_ , yes," she confirmed a little impatiently. "I'm sure you must have heard of him? He was taken prisoner by the Alliance during the siege of the Undercity, but now we have reason to believe he managed to escape his captors. Sadly though, we haven't seen or heard anything of him ever since. You will understand that the warchief wants to make sure he is safe and sound and that he, well- won't stray from the path."

"Of course."

Finally Ylena allowed herself to release the breath she had been holding ever since she had realised who her visitor was. She hoped her face and voice would not betray the utter relief that washed over her at hearing those news.

So Sylvanas knew nothing of the planned rebellion!

Not only would she probably not die today, as it seemed, this mission even proved to be the escape route she had secretly been hoping for. She could impossibly assist Baine when she was in the Elwynn Forest, now could she?

Ylena felt her lips curl into a smile. "Ready when you are." she said with a zeal she didn't even have to fake. "It is an honor to serve the Dark Lady."

"Indeed." Lyana replied- albeit in a tone as if this was something that should go without saying. "You will find me in the woods just outside Stormwind. But be careful. The SI:7 has its agents everywhere in the area."

And with that, she turned and left the room as silently as she had entered it- leaving Ylena to wonder how Saurfang had managed to flee from a place as well secured as the Stormwind stockades.

And why Sylvanas would send one of her feared assassins to find him.

 

 

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

 

 

After such a long time in the sweltering heat of Zandalar, the moderate climate of the Elwynn Forest provided a welcome change.

To walk through the lush green woods, breathe in the clear, sweet air and listen to the song of the countless birds in the wide, decidous tree tops was pleasant and relaxing, but Ylena knew the feeling of peace and quiet to be deceptive.

She was deep in enemy territory here; every tree trunk and every bush could hide an SI:7 agent, and this close to the human capital, the presence of a Horde member would automatically be considered a hostile act or attempt at espionage, and instantly met with aggression.

When Brighteye suddenly flattened her ears and let out a low growl, Ylena had her bow drawn in a heartbeat.

She spun around, the arrow on the string pointing at the head of her alleged attacker.

"Easy now," she heard Lyana's cool voice."We wouldn't want to harm the wrong target, would we?" She didn't sound even remotely scared.

"I- I'm sorry." Ylena lowered her bow and shook her head. "I haven't seen you at all. Nor heard you." she admitted with some envy. The ability of the dark ranger to merge with the shadows was truly impressing!

"Never mind." Lyana raised a gloved hand to wave her apologies off. "You have every reason to be careful. See this?"

She pointed at the forest floor and the muddy footprints under the leaves Ylena only detected now. "Too big for a human." she noted and looked up at her companion.

"Indeed." the dark ranger nodded. " They're coming from a sewer entrance at the nearby Mirror Lake. I checked the lock, it looks like it has been broken only recently. Seems I found Saurfang's escape route. Let's see where it leads, shall we?"

 

And so the two of them followed the fugitive orc's tracks through the Elwynn Forest. Ylena- who had with some pride considered herself a decent tracker- soon couldn't help but graciously acknowledge that Lyana surpassed her with ease.

What the dark ranger might lack in understanding of nature, she made up for with her shadow magic, and although literally dead, her senses were exceptionally sharp, her sight and hearing superior to Ylena's own. Not the smallest mark escaped her attention.

She moved swiftly and soundlessly like a ghost and her arrows struck indeed true, as Ylena learned when they happened to encounter a trio of Stormwind agents trying to stop them.

Lyana beat her two to one in the skirmish- and that without having the help of companion.

Her awe for the fellow huntress grew by the minute.

She couldn't help imagining how it might be to become a dark ranger herself, to have the combined powers of nature and shadow magic at her disposal.

It was an intriguing thought, but when she voiced it towards her companion, she raised only a mocking smile.

"I suppose I could teach you a thing or two," Lyana said airily. "But of course, I'd have to kill you first."

"Of course." Ylena felt her face flush hot at her own stupidity." Thank you, but in that case, I think I'll pass."

The dark ranger's smile grew broader and her red eyes sparkled. "Well, we are at war. You might fall in battle every day." she gently reminded her. "And since you are a Sin'dorei, I see no reason why you couldn't be raised as one of us."

"But not all dark rangers are Sin'dorei, right?" Yena inquired. "Nathanos is- _was_ \- human. And has he not been training a new generation of Forsaken rangers as of late?"

 

 _Listen to you_. she scolded herself inwardly. _Jumping at the first opportunity to just say his name-_

 

Lyana twisted her pale face into a disapproving grimace.

"Nathanos- was an exception." she said sharply. "The only one, I might add. And the pitiful bunch he is training can _never_ hope to hold a candle to us. We are the first, and only true ones, our qualities will always remain unmatched. Now keep moving," she added and turned around to continue her path through the woods. "We have a mission to accomplish and time is of the essence."

 

As it turned out, the muddy footprints led east, towards the Redridge Mountains.

At the crossroads "Three Corners", an Alliance outpost consisting of a watchtower, an inn and a few small outhouses, the two women hid in the nearby bushes to eavesdrop on a couple of- clearly hungover- guards.

They learned that Mathias Shaw, the SI:7 chief himself, had been there last night and not only given all soldiers the night off, but also left a barrel of finest rum for them to enjoy their free time.

The perfect opportunity for anyone who wanted to sneak past the crossing unseen...coincidence?

 

Following Saurfang's trail farther eastwards, they eventually encountered a lonely huntsman and his four dogs at the Redridge Pass.

With the help of some persuasion- or rather, the unmistakable threat of violence-they at last had the old man admit that he had seen no one, but found some huge tracks in the morning which led over the mountain pass and into the swamp behind it.

Lyana thanked him kindly for the information, then she raised her bow and killed him with a single, well-aimed arrow right between his eyes.

At seeing their master fall, the dogs began to growl and bark agitatedly, but when Lyana aimed at them, too, they whined and fled with their tails between their legs.

Immediately Brighteye took up the chase, but Ylena called her off and turned to the dark ranger.

"Why have you done that?" she asked incredulously. "He was just a frightened old man-"

Visibly unmoved, Lyana bent down and yanked the arrow out of the corpse's forehead.

"A frightened old man who would first thing run and report our encounter to his Alliance overlords." she replied coolly. "We cannot take any risks."

She wiped the arrow clean at her breeches and stowed it back in her quiver."But worry not. There will be no more bloodshed today. I know what I needed to know. Now, I must report back to the warchief. You are to take no further action until you hear from me again. Understood?"

Since she had no desire to make closer acquaintance with those deadly black arrows herself, Ylena hastened to declare her consent.

"So- you want me to stay here and wait for you to come back?" she asked.

"You may just as well return to Zul'Dazar." Lyana said with a shrug. "Our work here is done-for the moment."

And with that, she shouldered her bow and vanished into the shadows once more.

 

When the dark ranger had left Ylena stayed put for a long moment, unsure of what do do next and more than a little confused.

It just made no sense.

Now that they knew Saurfang had set out for the Swamp of Sorrow, why should Lyana leave for Orgrimmar instead of further pursuing him?

Had she not said Sylvanas wanted to make sure the old orc was alive and well?

The swamp was a dangerous place even for a battle hardened orc, full of bloodthirsty beasts. She had expected that they would keep going until they found him, and then escort him safely back home.

 

Ylena forced her gaze away from the body of the huntsman in front of her, and shook her head in order to rid herself of her feelings of discomfort.

Lyana was right, it was well possible that the old man would have told on them, taking him out had been a necessary precaution. And it wasn't like she weren't used to killing; she had certainly done her share in producing bodies in their enemies' ranks.

However, none of them had been civilians.

 

Ylena looked down at her pet who, in turn, looked back at her expectantly- and still a little disappointed that she hadn't been allowed to pursue the dogs.

"Well," she told the lynx. "Seems like our little trip here is over sooner than I would have thought. Guess it's back home for us too, then."

She pulled her lips into a crooked smile. "If you want to call this smelly hole of a troll city this."

But even when she said the words, they didn't quite feel right.

Sure, the contempt for troll architecture ( and troll culture in general ) was something that came naturally for a Sin'dorei, but she didn't really dislike her stay in the Zandalari capital, not anymore.

In Dazar'alor, she had to admit that, all that glistened was indeed gold, and by now the city had begun to feel more like a home to her than her modest hunting lodge in Eversong-

 

Ylena was still trying to remember where to find the next flight master ( for her income had so far not been enough to afford a flying mount ) when she suddenly heard a hushed voice coming from behind a nearby tree.

"Ey mon, over here" it said, and judged by the accent it clearly belonged to a troll. "I be needin' your help!"

 


	13. Traitor ( Pt 2 )

"Wait, let me get this straight."

Ylena raised her hands to interrupt her counterpart's agitated flow of words. " So you're saying you know where Saurfang is? "

The troll nodded eagerly.

His name was Zekhan of the Darkspear tribe, as he told her, he was a shaman and had fought at Saurfang's side at the siege of Undercity.

He didn't look like a warrior. Of only average height for his race he was lanky rather than actually muscular.

It was always hard to tell with trolls and their savage looks, but if Ylena were to guess, he was younger even than herself; his face beneath a fiery red mohawk showed barely a wrinkle and his big amber eyes no other expression than genuine worry.

"You must come with me," he insisted again. "We' been hiding on a small farm nearby, but de place be no safe. We best be gettin' dere before dey do!"

"They?" Ylena asked with a frown. "You mean- the Alliance? Have you been followed?"

The young troll gave her an odd look. His eyes roamed over the body of the dead huntsman on the ground then back to her.

"De Alliance? No. De true enemies of de horde."came his cryptic answer. "Please come. Dere be time for questions later."

 

Ylena bit her lip as she considered his request.

Lyana had explicitly told her to take no further actions before she heard from her again. But the dark ranger was back in Orgrimmar now to report to the warchief, and would probably not return anytime soon.

If Saurfang's life was in danger, as the troll claimed- and she had no reason to distrust his words- wasn't it her duty as a horde champion to save him at all costs? Wasn't that why Sylvanas had sent them here in the first place?

What would she say if anything happened to the old orc, and Ylena had not prevented it when she could?

What would Nathanos say?

Following orders was mandatory for every soldier, but when no superior was near you had to rely on yourself.

And would her commander not be proud of her when the mission was a success thanks to her initiative?

She hesitated for another moment, trained obedience fighting against ambition and curiosity.

In the end, it was Brighteye that made the decision for her.

The lynx seemed to like the troll; she walked over to him and gently nudged his side ( likely in the hope that he carried something tasty in his pockets as she was used to from his Zandalari cousins ) and he patted her head and smiled.

"Fine then." Ylena shouldered her bow and nodded in agreement.

She might be disobeying her direct orders, but she had a good reason to do so. "I'll come with you. Lead the way."

 

Zekhan let out a relieved breath, then he mounted his raptor and headed into the swamps and Ylena followed him.

She still had an uneasy feeling she couldn't quite explain, but there was no time for further questions because it was indeed only a short ride until their destination.

The troll halted his mount while they were still protected by the trees surrounding a clearing.

"It's too late." he whispered. "Dey beat us here."

Ylena followed his gaze and her blood ran cold.

The small hut before them was surrounded, but the ambushers were neither alliance soldiers nor a bunch of ordinary criminals.

They were Forsaken, all of them, at least half a dozen and led by a tall, slender figure in dark armor that looked painfully familiar even when standing with her back to her.

 

So Dark Ranger Lyana had not returned to Orgrimmar.

It had not made sense to Ylena that she should right from the start, and that was because that had never been the plan at all.

Lyana's plan, as she now realised to her dismay, had been to get rid of her so she could face Saurfang alone.

 

"Varok Saurfang!" Lyana's voice cut through the air as sharp and cold as a knife. "You are guilty of treason against the Dark Lady! Exit the hut or I will burn it down like that tree your alliance friends loved so dearly."

 

Ylena shuddered at the mention of Teldrassil, the world tree Sylvanas had burned down with all the people who'd sought shelter inside it, and suddenly she remembered what Nathanos had said to her about it.

That this cruel act was in fact Saurfang's fault, because he had spared Malfurion's life when the warchief had ordered his death.

Sylvanas had never cared about his safety, as Lyana had claimed. She wanted him to be taken into custody and brought to justice as the traitor she believed he was.

And by following the troll,Ylena in her conviction to the right thing, had managed to put herself into trouble.

 _Again_.

It was so absurd that she almost laughed.

She had been so happy to escape Baine and his treasonous plans and now here she was, standing once more on the wrong side of the law.

 

But it wasn't too late to correct her mistake. Zekhan had not told her the truth, she didn't know what she signed up for here.

She could just turn around and leave before Lyana noticed her, pretend she had never met the cursed troll and leave him and his buddy Saurfang to their fate- which was doubtlessly certain death.

Saurfang would certainly not surrender without a fight, but they were outnumbered three to one and she had experienced Lyana's fighting skills firsthand-

 

But then Zekhan spoke and nipped her escape plans in the bud."Ya ain't got a shred of honor between ya!" he shouted in Lyana's direction. "How ya gonna turn your back on Saurfang, after all he's done for da horde?"

Slowly, the dark clad, hooded figure turned her head and looked from the angry troll to his companion. If she was surprised to see Ylena, she didn't blink an eye.

"You best stay out of this," she warned. "My orders come from the warchief herself."

 

"And what orders might those be?"

The new voice was deep and throaty, and the speaker who now stepped out of the cabin no other than Varok Saurfang.

Even clad in a plain, dark leather garb instead of his battle armor, the orc veteran was an impressive sight, at least seven feet of pure muscle mass beneath thick green skin, adorned with numerous battle scars. In his right hand, as big as Ylena's head, he carried a massive battle axe.

 

"You turned your back on your duty to the horde," shoutet Lyana. "Worse even, after abandoning your people, you conspired with humans against your warchief! You will throw down your weapons and come with us." She twisted her lips into a cold smile. "Or you will die here in the swamp- alone."

 

Conspired with humans? By the light, what was going on here?

Ylena opened her mouth to- well, what exactly?-demand explanations? proclaim her innocence? but again it was the young troll shaman who beat her to it.

"Not alone!" he yelled.

And _charged._

 

"For the honor of the horde!" Saurfang shouted in a thundering voice and raised his axe. "Lok-Tar Ogar!"

"Kill the traitor!" came Lyana's command. "And all who stand with him!"

 

It was too late to clear up the misunderstanding, that much Ylena realised when an arrow, aimed for her head, flew only inches past her and hit the tree behind her.

Brighteye let out a menacing growl, jumped at the attacker, brought him down and buried her razor-sharp teeth in his throat.

It was them or her now.

She had no choice but to draw her own bow and fight for her life.

As luck would have it, Lyana had chosen to duel the old orc, and as long as he kept her in check, her minions proved no match for the combined power of Ylena's arrows, Brighteye's mighty claws and teeth and Zekhan's deadly chain lightnings. The young shaman may have seen only a single battle so far, but he sure was a natural and fought with grim determination.

When all the Forsaken battleguards were dead, they helped Saurfang with Lyana and soon the Dark Ranger lay in her blood in the grass before them- dead for good.

 

"We did it mon!" Zekhan cheered, clearly exhilarated. "What a battle! Did you see all dem sparks I be shooting?"

"Excuse me." Ylena dropped her bow, passed him by and staggered over to the next tree where she slumped down with her back against the trunk and closed her eyes.

The realisiation of what she had done made her stomach turn.

She had killed a Dark Ranger, one of Sylvanas' personal guards. How could she ever return to the life she knew?

This was worse even than her promise to aid Baine in freeing Derek Proudmoore. If the Banshee Queen found out about this, Ylena would not only lose her rank and privileges, but her life as well.

 

"I thank you for your help," she heard Saurfang's deep, somber voice next to her.

Ylena gave a short, mirthless laugh, then she looked up to him, tears glistening in her eyes. "Why?" she whispered.

The old orc exhaled with a deep sigh. "At Teldrassil," he began. "Before Sylvanas gave the order to set it ablaze, she was talking to a dying Night Elf, one of the Darnassian city guards. That woman asked her the same question. _Why_? Why all this hatred, all this rage? The campaign was won, why did all those innocent souls have to die? Women and children...I can still hear their screams-"

He paused, his rough features twisted into an expression of guilt and grief. "'You made life itself your enemy,' the Night Elf woman said to her," he continued. "'And this is a battle you cannot win.' And she was right. I didn't understand it at first, but now I do. Sylvanas must be stopped, or she will drag us all down with her to a place without honor, and beyond redemption."

 

The High Overlord wiped his axe clean and stowed it away on his broad back. "We should leave this place. Before more enemies show up."

The gaze of his brown eyes locked with hers. "No one but us knows what happened here today, and it is better if it stays like that for the time being. But remember, this is not over. I will not stand by and allow the banshee to destroy my horde and all it once stood for."

 

But what he was going to do about it he would not say.

Nor did he allow Zekhan to accompany him, but asked him to travel to Orgrimmar and find others that shared their mindset and despised Sylvanas for her crimes.

 

This was rebellion.

And for good or ill, Ylena was in it now. It didn't even matter if she was on Saurfang's side or not, he knew she wouldn't talk, she couldn't. Not without revealing her own involvement in the events.

There was nothing left for her to do but return to Zul'dazar and resume her duties as if nothing happened, and that was what she did.

 

Back at the Watertusk Inn Ylena bought a bottle of wine from Tanubu, drank it all on an empty stomach, then locked the door of her room and fell on her bed and into a restless sleep.

 

 

It was getting dark by the time she woke up.

The lively streets in front of her window were beginning to empty as the shadows from the grand pyramides grew longer and the day turned into another night.

Still bleary from sleep, Ylena got dressed and splashed some water into her face before she decided to go downstairs for a quick supper.

Upon opening her door she found a small piece of parchment at her doorstep. If the unknown messenger had knocked, she had not heard it in her sleep, but the scroll bore Nathanos' seal and she unfolded it with trembling fingers.

The message was short and to the point as was his way and said nothing else than that he expected to see her aboard the Banshee's Wail. _Post haste_.

Ylena swallowed the lump in her throat. The order was by no means unusual or even unexpected- Nathanos was her immediate superior after all- but she had not seen him after their last conversation when she had revealed her feelings for him, so much had transpired since then and all of it things he must never, ever find out.

For the first time under Nathanos' command, Ylena didn't look forward to seeing him.

There was, however, no way to ignore his order without arousing suspicion. And if Nathanos said post haste, he meant post haste.

Ylena grabbed her weapons, whistled for her pet and headed for the flightmaster.

 

The port was quiet; the attack on the city and the murder of King Rastakhan had left visible traces and dampened the bustling nightlife she remembered from the early days of her stay.

With the bulk of their fleet gone, and the tides of war turning against the horde and their new allies, it was questionable if the Zandalari would ever return to their former glory.

An atmosphere of palpable tension and insecurity hung heavily over the whole place like a dark cloud.

 

Sylvana's flagship with its black sails and the huge skull adorning its mast towered in the water in front of Ylena,as gloomy and ominous as her mood.

She didn't see Nathanos on deck, but Garona confirmed that he wanted to see her and was awaiting her in his cabin. Ylena thanked her and left her pet to her care, then she walked down the stairs into the ship's hull, took a deep breath and knocked on his door.

 

"Come in."

The sound of his deep voice, as well as the sight of him at his desk in the sparsely lit room, filled Ylena immediately with the familiar feeling of helpless longing, but her heart sank as she saw his storm-tossed expression.

Whatever news Nathanos had for her, they weren't good.

His fiery red eyes roamed over her with a disapproving glare. "You're late." he growled his usual greeting.

"Forgive me," Ylena raised her hand in an apologetic gesture. "I came as fast as I could, but the warchief sent me on a mission to the Elwynn Forest and I have just returned."

"Ah, yes." Nathanos nodded thoughtfully. "I have heard about this. And also, that the Dark Ranger who accompanied you is still missing."

 

Something like an icy fist closed around her heart but Ylena forced herself to stay calm.

He could not know what had happened. Bad news travelleved fast as they say, but impossibly _that_ fast!

"I don't know about that," she lied straight-faced- or so she hoped. "When I last saw her, Dark Ranger Lyana told me she was going to Orgrimmar, to report to the warchief."

"Well, it seems she made a detour."

Nathanos rose and walked around the desk until he stood right in front of her. "But you didn't, did you? You went straight back here?"

"Of course." Ylena held his gaze unblinking, but inside she was tossed by cold and hot shivers like in a fever. "As I was instructed to."

 

Now their enemies( and even some of their friends ) might claim that lies and deception came natural to every Sin'dorei, and that might be true for courtiers who'd had centuries to refine this talent.

But Ylena wasn't only very young by the standards of her long living race, she was also of a humble background and had spent most of her life in the wilderness, among simple folk and soldiers.

She was no master of the art of pretence, nor would she have much reason for it before.

Lying to Nathanos was the last thing she wanted to do, but it could not be helped. If he ever learned the truth about Lyana's fate and her role in it, he would kill her on the spot and be well in the right to do so-

 

"Good." Nathanos exhaled and closed his eyes for a brief moment. "Good," he repeated in a softer tone. "I-I'm glad you're back and- unharmed."

The icy grip around her heart melted and Ylena felt tears climb up her throat.

How often had she hoped to hear him say such words, full of genuine concern for her!

Right now, however, it only made her feel all the more guilty.

 

Her commander cleared his throat."It is well possible that Lyana's been held up." he said. "But you don't need to worry about that. As it is, we have more pressing matters at hand."

"We do?"

Ylena swallowed. He was still standing very close, which made it rather hard to concentrate.

"Indeed." Nathanos set his jaw into a grim line. "You may or may not have noticed that one of our ships is missing as well. The _Swift Vengeance_. It had a new passenger on board, a famous Kul Tiran war hero, recently raised from the dead. I suppose you know who I'm talking about?"

 

Since Ylena had allowed her defences to drop, those words caught her completely off guard.

She could only hope that Nathanos took her obvious shock for surprise and disbelief, which would be the appropriate reaction at hearing those news.

"Derek Proudmoore?" she asked with a confused frown, as if she only remembered the man now and had not spent long hours thinking about a plan to smuggle him out of the city and Sylvanas' reach.

"The very same," Nathanos confirmed through clenched teeth. "But he did not act on his own. He was in no condition to attempt at an escape, and the ship's crew was loyal to Sylvanas, they would not have helped him. But help he must have had. And I think, I even know, from _whom_."

 

He leaned in even closer and the intense gaze of his glowing eyes seemed to burn right through her.

"You don't happen to know anything about this?"

 

At this moment Ylena was sure that her guilt was written all over her face, that Nathanos could read each and every thought that was rushing through her mind, and certainly her heart was pounding so that he must hear it as well.

 

She felt cornered like a trapped animal.

Paralysed in the presence of her persecutor.

 

Her throat was as dry as the Vol'dun desert. She could not speak, nor would she have known what to say in the first place.

 

One of the first lessons Ylena had learned as a huntress was that when you stood with your back to the wall there was no way back, only forwards.

And sometimes, attack was the best defense.

 

She reached out and grabbed Nathanos by the collar of his cloak.

Pulled his face to hers and kissed him.


End file.
